The Short Stories of Harry Styles

Shards of Glass: Part 3

Harry has always been rather intrigued by you. 

When he was just in the background, locked away in the shadows of his own mind, he recognized the quiet longing that his other self harbored for you. 

Yes, his kinder side adored you, with your fair hair and rosy cheeks, but he wouldn't let those feelings show because he was too afraid of what he could do. What his darker side could do. 

Now that Harry was in the spotlight though...he was able to see you with his own eyes, hear your voice with his own ears, and feel you with his own skin. 

His gentler self had been in control for long enough. It was now his turn to take the reins and see what kind of trouble he could get into. 

When Harry walked into the BDSM club on the lower East side, he was pleasantly surprised at how well kept it was. Some tended to be smokey and dingy but here...everything was leather, sanitized to perfection, and he felt his body purr at the thought of taking you on a similar leather ottoman in his apartment. 

His green gaze flicked from one chained wall to the next before he landed on the owner, a raven haired woman who was sizing him up in a way that let him know that she was suspicious of his being there during the day. These types of clubs were usually reserved for nightfall. 

"Our hours of service aren't until later this evening...so I am guessing you are here for other matters." Her gravelly voice questioned as she counted up money from the register and Harry couldn't help the smirk that crept up his lips. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and the moment her dark eyes found the detective's badge she rolled her eyes with obvious disappointment, her body tense. 

"Ah...I see...this visit is strictly business." Harry's eyes flicked down to her thin neck and out of habit, and necessity, he cracked his knuckles before answering. 

"Pleasure is for later, love," he smiled devilishly at the owner who seemed to be enticed by his charm, "I have a few questions that need answering first however." The raven haired woman tossed her hair back over her shoulder and shut the register closed. She leaned one tattooed arm onto the counter of the bar and waited for him to continue. 

Harry could imagine how this could go. He'd done it a few times now, and he liked the feeling of his hands around a beautiful girl's neck. He never meant to kill them...that first night had been a mistake. 

His calmer side had realized that there was something dark within himself and so he sought out ways of...releasing that side of himself in safe and consensual ways. Actually, it had been a club much like this one that had caught pure little Harry's fancy. Harry can remember when his innocent side had practically begged the first time he'd entered the club to help him rid himself of the toxic thoughts he'd been having. Maybe he needed to be a submissive. Maybe he was craving something sexually that he didn't truly understand. 

So, he watched and he waited as Harry was spanked, whipped, and flogged into submission all the while biding his time...waiting for that sweet release. It was only a year ago now when he finally got what he desired. 

Harry had been putting dark thoughts into the sweet man's mind. He whispered delicious and sensational things into the depths of his mind, making those migraines harsher...more painful to endure...but the softer side of himself was resilient....until that night. 

Sweet Harry had hoped that this girl, so submissive, so angelic, would be what he needed. He had never explored being dominant with anyone before but he'd met her at the club and she craved a rough hand. Harry had hoped that by exerting himself, just a little, that it might help the thoughts he'd been having. He thought, a light choking, just the slightest clamp of his fingers into her throat, like she'd asked for, would be enough.