Harry Styles One Shots

See Yeh Break*

This vacation is an absolute blessing. A week away from the madness and noise of fans and paps and meetings. From the moment the two of you arrived to your private little getaway on the coast, Harry's been warm and relaxed, and you couldn't ask for anything more than that.

When you wake up and the other side of the bed is empty, though, a deep pout finds its way onto your face. Lazy morning cuddling is one of your favorite activities, and this week has been the perfect time for it, when your sleeping schedules are synced and there's nothing pressing to prepare for. But the sheets are empty now, still clinging to his scent but void of his familiar warmth.

You stretch out, shielding your eyes when you turn over into blinding sunlight. Wind ruffles your hair and you can smell sea water on the breeze. The doors out onto the balcony are wide open, leaving you with a breathtaking view that forces you to stare for a minute before you can move.

Slipping out of bed in just your panties, you find Harry's button-up from last night, crumpled up on the floor along with the rest of the clothing he shed before settling in for a much-needed sleep. You slide your arms into the shirt, which smells even more of him than the sheets, scented with his cologne. After quickly brushing your teeth, you pad into the doorway to the balcony, fumbling lazily to button up the borrowed shirt.

You find Harry around the corner, white t-shirt thrown on atop his red Calvin Kleins, seated and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He's staring out at the water, so content that you're almost in awe. Not a single line troubles his face, and you swear you can even see a slight quirk to his lips.

"Hi, baby," you greet quietly after admiring him silently for a few moments.

His head swivels in your direction immediately, lips lifting more when he sees your body clad in his clothes and the messy hair you're sporting.

"Mornin', love. Y'sleep well?"

"Very well." You walk toward him and he leans back, arms opening up for you. He pulls your back into his chest when you slide onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to the shell of your ear before he settles his chin on your shoulder. Your eyes wander the horizon, blissfully in love with the view you've been gifted.

"Pretty, innit?" Harry whispers, fingers tracing over the tops of your thighs.

"This place is amazing," you agree, leaning your temple into the side of his head.

Harry appreciates this moment, relaxed and alone with his favorite girl in a beautiful place. He revels in it, but he's also been itching for you since his eyes opened this morning and found you sprawled out beside him, practically glowing while you slept. Now that he's got a bit of time for him and nobody to invade his privacy, he's all too aware of how long it's been since he's done anything more than kiss you, and the first thing on his mind isn't himself. It's not your lips around his cock, or burying himself deep inside your pussy until he's filling you up. Instead, his first thought is simply making you come.

His mind has been running all morning, even staring out at the sea that was meant to distract him. Flashes and memories of you, fucked out and blissful. He keeps remembering how your face twists up, how your mouth falls open, the way your neck gives out and your head falls back when you're coming. He's so desperate for those memories to be replaced by the now. He wants fresh images, he wants you clinging to him, he wants to watch you and see how good he can make you feel. The thoughts have his cock twitching to life in his boxers, and before he knows it he's got his mouth on your neck, inhaling the faded scent of your shampoo while his tongue darts out just below your ear.

"Har—oh." You suck in a heavy breath when his teeth dig into your skin and he sucks, pulling blood to the surface. "Don't leave marks, Harry, you can't—"