Harry's head often finds itself wedged in the gutter when certain things have the potential to be taken in a different, more suggestive way. He doesn't exactly go out of his way to find dirty innuendos in people's conversations, his mind just willingly takes him there before an innocent thought can come first.
Oftentimes, Harry will try to hide his amusement at the dirty thought; purse his lips and bow his head to hide his growing grin and mischievous eyes. But there are also times where Harry doesn't bother biting his tongue and giggles like a relentless schoolboy who doesn't know a thing about sex.
But Harry knows all the things about sex. It's never been a secret that he's well experienced in that department, though often stays quiet when the topic rises through casual conversation with friends. Harry is private about a lot of things when it comes to keeping his personal life out of the public eye and he often takes the same approach when it comes to discussing past sexual partners with his mates after a few drinks.
Tonight isn't much different. Everyone is back in the studio and after a long day of Harry's angelic voice and Mitch shredding the guitar. You joined them almost four hours ago after work and since your arrival, the little studio has only grown hotter and hotter and you're borderline sweltering.
You've all had a couple of drinks (not that they were allowed in the studios) and your cheeks have been burning from the effects of the alcohol for over an hour. You're laying on the floor, knees bent and feet flat as you pat the beat to Harry's song on your stomach. Harry sits on the sofa beside you, flared trousers and that yellow t-shirt. He's gazing down at you, a lazy grin on his lips and brows slightly raised as he nods to the beat.
You're about to reach the best part, the beat that sets your body in blazes of fire when the music is abruptly switched off and you're sitting up with furrowed brows and tightly pursed lips. Sarah stands at the doorway, plastic carrier bag in her hand and a golden grin on her lips.
She empties the contents of the bag on the end of the sofa, six red and blue popsicles bouncing off each other. You squeal in delight, your heart fluttering in the excitement of finally having something to cool your heated state down.
You waste no time to tear the wrapper from a cherry flavoured lolly, your fingers gripping the end of the stick as you bring it to your lips. Harry grimaces as he watches everyone do the same, squirming at how the icy treat already begins to melt in the stuffy air of the little studio booth.
Harry eyes the spare one up but decides against it. The last thing he wants is a sticky hand and a brain freeze. He decides he'll just sweat it out. But as he turns back to you, your eyes are fluttering closed and your lips are stretched deliciously around the lolly as you sink your mouth down on it until your lips close again around the base.
His throat feels dry and he can feel himself struggling in his loose pants. Harry watches you slowly pull back off it, a soft hum sounding through your chest as a wet kissy noise punctures his ears and your eyes flutter open again-soaked, pink tongue darting over your swollen lips.
His mind is reeling, his cock stiffening and oozing. What the fuck? Harry's always adored you as a person. A bubbly personality and a radiant smile. You've always been a close friend of his, someone he often confided in and could trust and vent to. And he's always found you attractive, but never once has he looked at you like this and he doesn't know what to do.
Your eyes are hooded and somewhat heavy and he knows it's from the effects of the alcohol but that dirty part of him is wondering if that's what you'd look like fucked out on his cock. Oh, God... what's gotten into him? Harry can't shake the thoughts from his head, though. The more he tries, the stronger they are, the clearer he can see his little fantasy play out in front of him.
