Sugar daddy-ish part 6 (Patreon)

I ended this one with a cliffhanger because I am the devil :) 

part 1 

part 2 

part 3 

part 4 

part 5 

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Harry can’t stop thinking about that night. 

It’s both amazing to relive but quite debilitating; a coalescence of these tender, syrupy feelings that warm through his insides like a cascade of melted chocolate through his veins, sweetening him right up. The fact that it was in the air, their proclamation of love for one another spoken into the gentle night of their first time being rather intimate, had lifted such a heavy weight from his shoulders and had him floating within the clouds. Puffy and swollen with her soft kisses, feeling the ghost of them pressing to his face, down to his throat, reveling in her time doing so. 

He can’t focus on anything but that. His days are spent wondering when he were to see her next, how long he may be able to see her again, if they might go home together or not. A night spent with her, takeout, snuggled on the couch without him having to overthink whether or not he was being too obvious about how much he really liked her. Now he could pepper kisses and hold her close. He could rub her back as he held her to his chest, and she could make use of the habit she’d made running her fingers through his growing hair. The sound of her gentle breaths could lull him to sleep, waning in and out of watching the movie or show and marveling at how lucky he was to have stumbled upon something so great in that coffee shop. 

The last time Harry has been with anyone was. . .well, it’d been a while to say the least. So it’s safe to say that he was more than soaking in the much needed affection he had been lacking after a while of nothing. Sex is one thing -- it’s fulfilling in the moment, but hiking up his pants and buggering off afterwards was always like a stone in the heart. It was the intimacy that Harry had enjoyed of being with someone -- the closeness, the feeling of their skin, the knowledge of a body beside him. He could only thank some higher power that Y/N seemed to love being just as soft-hearted and touchy as Harry was. 

And when he can’t be with her; the nights they venture off to be in their own homes, are the nights that Harry realizes how much he really likes her. A look down to the ring adorning his finger only further cements his feelings and the realization that someone like her doesn’t come around often. He feels incredibly lucky to be the person to have captured her heart just as she had captured his own -- an unavoidable trap, covered in leaves, waiting to grab him by the ankle and keep him still.

Harry’s whipped. Absolutely and irrevocably whipped, and this is only further proven by the way his heart jumps in his chest when she flops in the chair across his desk at the end of the work day. She’d always done this to some extent, with a huff or a puff, plopping into the leather cushion and slouching over when she had a particularly long day. She would give him his daily report before he said she could go home, but most times they would sit and chat long after everyone had gone home and it was but them and the janitors. Apart from their original acquaintancy at the coffee shop, these talks were where they had soldered their rapport with one another. It’s where Harry’s heart had given a panicked thud when she laughed at his jokes and he’d felt like he’d accomplished a multimillion deal. Where he had prodded gently into her life, wondering aloud her hobbies, interests, movies she’d been in to as of late. Where he would sit for long after and scold himself for having such a petulant crush on her. 

“Mr. Styles,” she pouted at him today, knuckling at her eyes with a fisted hand, “I’ve got a headache the size of Ireland.” 

Harry mimicked her jutted lip, practically scribbling the rest of the calculations he’d been working on a worn pink notepad, “Poor thing,” he murmurs sympathetically, placing his pen down with a small click, looking up to face her where she had a hand pressed to the side of her head and her eye squinted, “Have I overworked you that much?” 

She shook her head, “Barely got a wink of sleep last night,” she explained to him, before pointing an accusatory finger, “I’ve gotten so used to you being ‘round that now my bed feels empty, you heathen. How am I s’pposed to focus on scheduling your life if I miss your freezing toes touching on my calves in the middle of the night?” 

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he bites down on it trying to hide the large grin that’d begun forming. Was he happy that she was in pain? Of course not, but the fact that she had a headache because she couldn’t sleep since he wasn’t there? Despite her cranky, blaming tone, the weight behind her words is unimaginably enjoyful. “And now you’re smiling! You’re sent from hell.” 

“Lil’ ol me? I couldn’t be,” he leaned back into the seat, now not bothering to hide his smile at all, “Do you want to come home with me and I’ll lull you back to sleep with my cold feet?” 

Y/N’s brows furrow as she nods, “You’re a sadist, y’know that?” She slinks out of the chair and Harry figures she may be going to get her things, but instead she’s walking around the desk and sinking to her knees. Harry’s eyes pop open wide, looking to see that she had closed the door and shut the blinds to his office without him so much as realizing before she sat down. And she’s shoving his swivel chair outward from the desk, crawling beneath it and resting their. “D’ya think you could take yourself out for me?” 

Harry feels his cock twitch to life, a burning twist that pulsates through his abdomen as he looks down to her, her eyes all wide and sweet. Hands to his thighs and aiding him to roll in, though he slips his fingers around her own and holds onto them softly to pause her, “Jesus, Lovie, wha’s going on?” 

She gives his hand a squeeze, “Been wanting you in my mouth all day and I don’ particularly want to wait. Nobody's here anymore, I double checked -- is this okay?” 

How could Harry say no to that? Not when she’d gone through the trouble of double checking, just because she wanted him? And they’d not done this yet, so a bead of excitement dribbles down his spine as he gently lets go of her hands, allowing them to slip up to the button of his trousers and slipping them undone. Harry wonders what had gotten into her -- since the handie and their pronouncement of their feelings, they hadn’t done anything much else sexual really. Apart from heated kisses and some subtle grinding, she hasn’t suggested or asked to go farther so Harry hadn’t pushed it. Had she wanted to? Was he missing signs that would have suggested she did? And this would be her first blowie, wouldn’t it be? 

She pulls him out of the zipper, snuggling herself further back beneath his desk and dragging the chair with her so that she was hidden neatly, “Filthy little thing,” he hisses as she leans forward, letting spit pool from her mouth and dribble onto the head of his cock like he had taught her the first time, “What’s got you so bent for it?” 

Shrugging her shoulders, she twists her palm up and down his shaft, thumbing at the crown carefully, “I’ve been thinking about it lately and I haven’t gotten the courage to ask until right now.” She’s just a breath away, “I’ve been watching videos and stuff, t’a try and be ready for you but I don’t think I’ll be any good.” 

“God, honey don’t even think I’ll last if your tongue barely grazes me,” he murmurs, pushing some hair from her cheeks and tucking it back her hair, “D’ya see how hard you made me in the matter of what, two minutes? No way I’ll make it past three minutes.” 

She giggles some and Harry’s so incredibly endeared, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Watched videos? Was too nervous to ask him? She was precious but he feels guilty some -- why would she be worried to ask him if she could? 

Y/N wiggles herself forward, parting her lips and letting her tongue lull from her mouth, letting it stroke against the slit ever so lightly. A moan threatens his throat, begging to be let out but he bites hard on his cheek to keep himself quiet. He believes that she double checked, of course, but he also knows that some of the janitors lag behind in the breakroom before they finally venture home. And the security guy isn’t very nosy until he hears a bump in the night, and a long, drawn groan of pleasure was probably  worth checking out. 

“That’s good,” he murmurs softly, a hand slipping down to her cheek and stroking her face with the pad of his thumb, “Wish you would’ve told me you’d been wanting to, Sweetheart. Don’t gotta be nervous about anything with me.” 

She hums, laying a hot coat of saliva from where the fabric of his trousers end, up the smooth skin of his shaft. His breathing waivers, bucking his hips just a little and his toes curl within his patent leather loafer while he holds onto the arm of his chair, his grip tight as she suckles at the very crown of his cock. She’s making him wet; not slobbering but enough that he feels amazingly filthy. He can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when she finally wraps her mouth around him. 

And he thinks he’s about to feel it, when she lifts, pulling at his cock and tilting it down towards his mouth so that she could wrap her lips around them. 

But there’s a knock on the door.