off the record — 6 (Patreon)

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all having a great weekend. let me know what you would like to read next! thinking about jock/nerd high school trope. let me know!

The air inside the secure viewing box at the Accor Arena was aggressively cold, filtered through a conditioning system that smelled faintly of sterile metal and expensive citrus. It was a sharp, absolute contrast to the chaotic, humid atmosphere radiating from the twenty thousand bodies packed into the stadium below.

Y/N stood alone at the very edge of the thick glass window. The glass was heavily tinted from the outside, rendering her completely invisible to the sea of people beneath her. Behind her, Julius stood by the reinforced door like a mountain, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the perimeter.

She pressed her palms flat against the cool pane, looking down at the massive scale of the production. From this height, the general admission floor looked huge. Thousands of glowing phone screens swayed in the dark, and a low, deafening hum of anticipation vibrated through the very architecture of the building. They were chanting his name.

And then, without warning, every single light in the arena snapped off.

The darkness was absolute. A split second of profound silence before a scream ripped through the crowd. It was not just a loud noise. It was a physical force. The sheer volume of twenty thousand people screaming at the top of their lungs hit the reinforced glass of her box so hard that Y/N actually felt the vibration.

A single white spotlight pierced the darkness, hitting the center of the stage.

Harry rose from a trapdoor in the floor, and the stadium absolutely erupted.

Y/N lost her breath. She had spent the last four days curled up with him on a velvet sofa, wearing his oversized sweatshirts, watching him struggle to flip chocolate chip pancakes, and listening to him complain about the rain. But the man standing on that stage was an entirely different entity.

He wore a custom pair of deep emerald trousers and a sequined jacket left completely unbuttoned, exposing the expanse of his bare chest and the familiar ink of his tattoos. The stage lights caught the sweat already gleaming on his collarbones. He grabbed the microphone stand with a practiced, arrogant grace, before he let out a guttural scream into the mic, launching the band into the opening chords of the first song.

The heavy, driving beat of the live drums and the bass guitar exploded through the massive speakers.

Right at that exact second, she felt a sharp, distinct thud right below her belly button.

Y/N gasped, her hands flying down to cup the slight curve of her stomach. She held her breath, waiting. A moment later, it happened again. It was a frantic, rolling flutter followed by another strong kick. The baby had been relatively quiet all day, lulled by the gentle movements of the hotel, but the rhythm of the bass had woken her up entirely.

"She is dancing," Y/N whispered aloud to herself, a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion rushing up her throat.

She stood there in the dark, isolated box, her hands pressed protectively to her womb, feeling her daughter kick in perfect time to the rhythm her father was commanding on stage. It was the most surreal, isolating, and beautifully profound moment of her life. She looked down at the glittering figure of Harry sprinting down the catwalk, the crowd parting around him like he was Moses at the Red Sea, and the reality of her situation finally, truly settled into her bones.

This was not a normal life. This baby was not going to have a normal childhood. The chaos, the noise, the hiding, the absolute worship from millions of strangers. This was the world she had agreed to step into. And standing there, feeling the life moving inside her, she knew she would face all of it just to keep the three of them together.

Down on the stage, the energy shifted. The opening numbers were a frenzy of pure adrenaline, and Harry was an absolute master of the crowd. He danced with a wild, freedom, his hips swaying in a way that made the entire front row dissolve into hysterics.

Y/N found herself unable to look away from the movement of his hips. She swallowed hard, a sudden flush of heat rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. It was incredibly jarring to watch him like this. She knew exactly what those hands felt like. She knew the exact texture of the skin stretched tight over his stomach. She knew the deep, rumbling sound he made when she kissed the spot right beneath his jaw.

Seeing him put all of that raw, magnetic sexuality on display for twenty thousand people stirred something deeply possessive and heavy within her. Her pregnancy hormones had been playing cruel tricks on her for weeks, leaving her exhausted and nauseous, but tonight they seemed to have ignited into an intense, simmering desire. Every time he dragged a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, every time his voice dropped into a raspy, breathy register between lyrics, a slow curling warmth pooled low in her stomach.

She wanted him. It was a simple, primal realization. She wanted the concert to be over so she could have him all to herself.

The setlist moved seamlessly from high-energy rock anthems to slower songs. The lights dimmed down to a deep, moody blue. Harry strapped an acoustic guitar across his chest, the wood resting right over his heart. The crowd quieted, thousands of phone flashlights creating a galaxy of stars around him.

He stepped up to the microphone, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The giant screens above the stage showed his face in incredible detail. His green eyes were dark, his skin flushed, a few stray curls plastered to his wet forehead.

He did not speak to the crowd. He just looked up, his gaze sweeping over the highest tiers of the arena. He scanned the luxury boxes, and even though Y/N knew he could not possibly see her through the tinted glass and the blinding glare of the stage lights, his eyes seemed to lock directly onto her exact location.

He strummed the opening chord of the song they had rehearsed in the empty arena that afternoon.

As he sang the words about sweet creatures and coming home, the absolute sincerity in his voice stripped away the massive production around him. He was performing for the thousands, but he was singing entirely for her.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes and letting his voice wash over her. The baby settled down into a gentle, rolling rhythm, as if soothed by the familiar sound of his acoustic guitar. The sexual tension that had been building inside Y/N shifted into something much deeper, an aching, overwhelming love that made her chest physically hurt.

When the final song of the encore brought the house down in an explosion of pink and white confetti, the crowd noise reached a fever pitch. Harry stood at the end of the catwalk, blowing kisses to the audience, bowing deeply, taking in the worship of the Parisian crowd one last time before he turned and sprinted back toward the main stage, disappearing down the trapdoor.

The house lights instantly snapped on, harsh and bright, breaking the spell of the evening.

Julius stepped forward from the shadows of the box, tapping his earpiece.

"He is off stage," Julius said, his voice clipped and professional. "Miller is securing the hallway. We need to move you to the holding room now, before the VIP guests start migrating to the back."

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, her fingers lingering for a second on the bump. She turned away from the glass, leaving the roar of the crowd behind her, ready to go claim the man who had just conquered the city.

The concrete corridors beneath the arena were a maze of frantic activity. Security guards in high visibility vests were shouting orders in French. Julius kept a massive, protective hand hovering just inches from her lower back, guiding her swiftly through the chaos. No one looked at her. The NDA held strong; she was entirely invisible.

They reached a heavy, unmarked metal door at the end of a dead-end hallway. Julius swiped a keycard, opening it to reveal a small, sterile dressing room. It was not the massive communal party room where the band and the guests would celebrate. It was a private holding cell.

"Wait here," Julius instructed, standing on the outside of the threshold. "He will be here in two minutes."

The door clicked shut, locking her in.

The silence in the room was deafening after two hours of screaming fans. Y/N paced the length of the small rug, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her blood was still buzzing with the vibrations of the bass and the lingering heat of watching him perform.

Exactly two minutes later, the door handle turned.

Harry practically threw the door open, slamming it shut behind him and locking the deadbolt with a sharp, metallic click.

He looked entirely feral. He was still wearing the sequined jacket, though it was slipping off one shoulder. He was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, his chest and neck glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights of the small room. He smelled like adrenaline, and expensive cologne.

He did not say hello. He did not ask how she liked the show.

He crossed the small room in two long strides, his eyes dark and dilated, completely devoid of the charming pop star persona he had just worn on stage. He reached out, his large hands gripping her hips with a bruising, desperate strength, and hauled her flush against his body.

"You," he breathed heavily, his voice completely wrecked and raspy from screaming for two hours.

Before she could even reply, he ducked his head and crashed his mouth down onto hers.

The kiss was not sweet. It was not careful. It was an absolute collision.

He tasted of salt, his mouth hot and demanding. Y/N met his urgency instantly. Driven by the lingering adrenaline of the show and the heavy, intoxicating pull of her own hormones, she opened for him, her hands flying up to grip the lapels of his jacket.

He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against her lips, and walked her backward until her spine hit the concrete wall. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but he gave her no time to recover. His hands moved frantically. One slid up to tangle in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss, while the other gripped her waist, anchoring her flush against his hips.

The frantic energy of twenty thousand screaming people was still humming beneath his skin. He kissed her like he was trying to breathe her in, like he needed her to absorb the excess adrenaline before it burned him alive.

Y/N pushed her fingers into his wet curls, pulling him closer. The heavy silver rings on his fingers pressed cool against the sensitive skin of her neck as his hands mapped the curves of her body. He was everywhere at once. His lips left her mouth, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down her jawline and pressing fiercely into the soft spot right below her ear.

"You have no idea," he rasped against her pulse point, his breathing ragged and uneven. "I spent the last forty minutes of that set just thinking about getting you alone."

"You did alright for someone distracted," she breathed back. Her hands slid down from his shoulders, exploring the bare, sweat slicked expanse of his chest. The heat radiating off his skin and feeling the hard muscles shift under her touch made her head spin.

"I wasn't distracted. I was motivated," he countered, capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss slowed down, shifting from desperate need to something much deeper and infinitely more dangerous. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his body pressing heavily against hers. She could feel the rapid, racing thud of his heart against her own chest, and below that, the very firm, undeniable pressure of his desire.

He dropped his hand from her waist, letting it trace an agonizingly slow path over the silk of her dress. He mapped the curve of her hip before coming to rest warmly on the swell of her stomach. The baby, perhaps sensing the sudden shift in energy and the familiar pressure of his hand, gave a soft flutter against his palm.

Harry broke the kiss, resting his wet forehead against hers. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long, shuddering sigh as he felt the movement.

"She was dancing," Y/N whispered into the small space between them, her chest heaving. "During the heavy bass. She was kicking the whole time."

A beautiful, exhausted smile broke across his face. He opened his eyes, the feral, rockstar glint softening instantly into pure adoration. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She likes the noise."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss directly over the silk covering her bump, and then dragged his lips back up to hers, kissing her slow and deep. "Good. Because we have a lot of noise in our lives."

Three sharp knocks rattled the heavy metal door.

"Boss," Julius called from the hallway, his voice muffled but urgent. "The crowd is clearing. Miller has the van at the loading dock. We need to go before the VIPs come looking for you."

Harry let his head fall forward, resting his chin on her shoulder with a groan of pure frustration. "Tell Julius I am going to fire him," he mumbled into her neck.

"You love Julius," Y/N smiled, running a hand down his back to soothe him.

"I am reconsidering my stance," he grumbled, finally taking a step back. The sudden loss of his body heat made Y/N shiver. He noticed instantly. He reached out of his hoodie, and draped it over her shoulders to keep her warm. The lining smelled exactly like him.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Let's get out of here. We have a date, and I owe you some eclairs."

Julius led the way, navigating the winding corridors with military precision. Harry kept his hand firmly anchored to the small of Y/N's back, shielding her from the occasional crew member hurrying past

They reached the loading dock just as a light drizzle began to fall over Paris. The cold air felt incredible against her flushed skin. A sleek black van sat near a stack of empty crates. Miller was already standing by the open sliding door, scanning the perimeter.

"Quickly now," Julius instructed, checking the time on his heavy watch. "The press are swarming the main exits."

Harry helped her climb into the dark interior of the van before sliding in right behind her. The door pulled shut with a solid, heavy thud, instantly cutting off the noise of the arena and the damp chill of the night.

The back of the van was a sanctuary of soft leather and low ambient lighting. The privacy screen separating them from Miller was completely raised. They were alone.

Harry immediately sank back into the plush leather seat, spreading his long legs out and letting his head fall back with a heavy sigh. The adrenaline was finally beginning to drain from his system, leaving behind a beautiful, exhausted satisfaction. He turned his head to look at her.

"Come here," he murmured, lifting his arm.

Y/N did not hesitate. She slid across the seat, tucking herself perfectly into his side. He wrapped his arm securely around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his chest. She rested her cheek over his heart, listening to the steady, rhythmic thud that was finally returning to a normal pace.

The van pulled away from the loading dock smoothly, joining the sparse late night traffic. Through the tinted windows, the city of Paris began to unfold. It was a blur of golden streetlamps, wet cobblestones, and elegant limestone facades passing by like a movie reel.

Harry reached his free hand toward a small, chilled compartment built into the console. He pulled out a crisp white box tied with a thick satin ribbon.

"I promised you a date," he said softly, his voice still deliciously raspy. He pulled the ribbon loose with one hand. "And since we cannot sit at a cafe on the Seine, I had the chef at the hotel put something together."

He opened the lid. Nestled inside were jewels of French pastry art. There were delicate macarons in shades of pale pink and pistachio green, two perfect chocolate eclairs, and a small fruit tart dusted with powdered sugar.

"You planned this?" Y/N asked, looking up at him in surprise. "Between soundcheck and the show?"

"I told you I was motivated," he grinned, that boyish charm returning in full force. He picked up a raspberry macaron. "Open up."

Y/N laughed softly, complying. He fed her the sweet treat, his fingers brushing against her bottom lip. The delicate shell shattered perfectly, the tart raspberry jam melting on her tongue.

"Good?" he asked, watching her mouth intently.

"Incredible," she hummed, catching a stray crumb of sugar from the corner of her mouth with her tongue.

Harry’s eyes darkened, tracking the movement. He swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. He picked up one of the chocolate eclairs, taking a bite himself, before offering the other end to her. Sharing food in the small, enclosed space felt incredibly intimate.

The van slowed to a stop. Y/N looked out the window and gasped.

They were parked on a quiet, elevated street near the Trocadero. Directly in front of them, looming massive and magnificent against the dark, rainy sky, was the Eiffel Tower. It was bathed in a warm golden light.

"Wait for it," Harry whispered, checking his phone. "Ten seconds to midnight."

He shifted closer, his hand finding her thigh and squeezing gently.

Right as the clock struck midnight, the tower erupted. Thousands of strobe lights began to dance frantically across the iron structure, turning the monument into a towering beacon of sparkling diamonds. The reflection of the lights flickered across the tinted glass of the van, illuminating the leather interior in quick, bright flashes.

Y/N was mesmerized. It was a tourist cliché, but sitting here in the quiet luxury of the van, safe in his arms while the rest of the world hunted for them, it felt entirely magical.

She turned to look at him, fully intending to thank him, but the words died in her throat.

Harry was not watching the tower. He was entirely focused on her. The strobe lights reflected in her wide eyes, making them shine with a fierce, quiet intensity. He stared at her for a long second, his chest rising and falling heavily.

"Fuck it," he muttered softly.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, he reached across the seat and grabbed the heavy handle of the sliding door.

"Boss, wait," Miller’s voice crackled through the intercom, thick with warning. "You are exposed."

"Give me two minutes, Miller," Harry replied, throwing the door open.

The damp, cool Parisian air rushed into the warm van. The sound of the city was suddenly real and immediate. Harry stepped out onto the wet cobblestones, his boots splashing in a shallow puddle. He turned back, holding his large hand out to her.

"Come on," he coaxed, a reckless, brilliant smile breaking across his face.

Y/N did not hesitate. She placed her hand in his and let him pull her out of the van. the grey jacket slipped slightly off her shoulders, but Harry caught it, pulling it tight around her chest to keep out the chill.

They stood there on the quiet street, completely unsheltered. For the first time since they left London, there was no tinted glass, no brick walls, and no security detail hovering an inch away. It was just the two of them, standing under the glow of the sparkling tower.

Harry wrapped both arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest so they were both looking up at the lights. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I am so glad you stayed," he said softly, his voice a warm rumble against her spine. "I know this is not how it is supposed to be. I know sneaking through kitchens and watching the show from a dark box is not a fair life. But having you here tonight, knowing you were in that room while I was up there, it changed everything for me."

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat. She turned around in his arms, resting her palms flat against his warm chest. The misty rain was catching in his curls.

"I would rather be in a dark box with you than anywhere else in the world," she promised him. "We will figure the rest out."

Harry let out a breath that sounded like sheer relief. He leaned in, closing the distance between them right there on the street.

This kiss was entirely different. It was slow, and agonizingly tender. He tasted like rich chocolate and devotion. He took his time, parting her lips gently, letting the kiss deepen with a lazy, deliberate heat that sent shivers racing down her spine. They were standing in the open, vulnerable and exposed, but wrapped in his arms, Y/N had never felt safer.

A car engine revved in the distance, breaking the spell. Harry pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers.

"Okay," he whispered, pressing one last quick kiss to her lips. "lets go back."

He helped her back into the van, sliding the heavy door shut behind them. The lock engaged with a sharp click.

Harry leaned forward, tapping the privacy glass. "Take us back to the hotel, Miller.”

The van pulled away from the sparkling tower, disappearing into the Parisian night, taking them back to the Ritz.

The heavy wooden door of the suite clicked shut behind them. Y/N did not even bother turning on the main lights. She walked straight past the velvet sofa, dropped her coat on a chair, and threw her entire body onto the massive mattress with a loud, dramatic groan.

Harry chuckled, the sound deep and raspy in the quiet room. He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down right next to her feet.

"Rough night?" he teased gently. His large hands wrapped around her ankles. He carefully slipped her boots off one by one, tossing them quietly to the floor. Once the shoes were gone, his thumbs pressed firmly into the arches of her tired feet, massaging the ache away through her socks.

Y/N let out a muffled hum of pure bliss into the silk duvet.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, his thumbs continuing their slow, heavenly circles. "I know we had the eclairs in the van, but I can have the kitchen send up some actual food if you want. A sandwich? Fries?"

Y/N turned her head sideways against the pillows, looking at him with heavy eyes. "I am too tired to chew," she mumbled. "I just want to sleep for a week."

Harry smiled, his green eyes entirely soft. He gave her calf one last affectionate squeeze before standing up. “get in bed. I need a bath to unwind first. My back is completely shot from jumping off the drum riser, and my ears are still ringing.”

"You did just sprint around a stadium for two hours," Y/N pointed out, "You are allowed to be tired.”

He walked toward the open double doors of the massive marble bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto a chair. A moment later, the loud roar of the golden taps filled the air.

"Mitch completely messed up the intro to Kiwi tonight," Harry called out over the sound of the running water, keeping the conversation going casually as he moved around the bathroom. "I do not think anyone in the crowd noticed, but he looked absolutely terrified for about three seconds. It was hilarious. I almost missed my cue laughing at him.”

Y/N rolled onto her back, listening to him ramble about the band. She loved this version of him. The rockstar persona was melting away, leaving behind the normal, talkative man she had fallen for. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching through the open doorway as he poured lavender oil into the steaming water.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped down into the massive sunken tub. The water shut off a moment later, leaving the suite quiet again.

Y/N sat up fully. Her body was tired, but watching him sink into the water, his wet curls sticking to his forehead, sent a sudden, sharp jolt of heat straight to her core. The lingering adrenaline from watching him command twenty thousand people came rushing back. She did not want to sleep.

She stood up from the bed. Instead of reaching for pajamas or a nightgown, she stripped off her clothes completely. The cool air of the suite brushed against her bare skin as she let her dress and undergarments pool on the floor. She reached for the thick white hotel bathrobe draped over the end of the bed and wrapped it tightly around her naked body, tying the belt securely around her waist.

She walked softly to the bathroom door.

Harry was submerged up to his chest, his head resting back against the marble rim, his eyes closed.

"Did you fall asleep already?" she asked softly, leaning against the doorframe.

His eyes fluttered open. He took in the sight of her standing there. The heavy terry cloth robe swallowed her frame, but the way she held it tightly closed hinted that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. The exhaustion in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a sharp, focused heat.

"No," he breathed, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. "I am definitely awake now."

"Good." Y/N took a step closer to the edge of the water. "Because we need to talk about the acoustic set."

Harry shifted in the water, sitting up slightly. The water sloshed over his bare chest. "Did you like it?"

"I liked that you did not look away from my box once during the entire song," she accused playfully, though her heart was hammering. "You were completely obvious."

"I was singing to my girls," he countered, a slow, arrogant smirk tugging at his lips. "I wanted to make sure you were paying attention."

"I was paying attention." She reached for the belt of the robe. "But it is very distracting when twenty thousand other women are screaming your name at the exact same time."

She pulled the knot loose. The thick white robe slid off her shoulders and dropped silently to the floor, leaving her completely bare under his intense gaze.

Harry swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. "I only have eyes for you”.

"I know."

Harry let out a ragged groan, his hands gripping the edges of the tub so tightly his knuckles turned white. "God, you are beautiful. Come here. Please."

Y/N did not hesitate. The confidence she had found was burning bright. She stepped into the steaming water, the heat a sudden shock against her skin. She did not sit across from him. She moved directly between his parted knees, straddling his hips as she settled into the water flush against his chest.

"You are entirely too bold tonight," Harry murmured, his large, wet hands immediately finding her hips to steady her.

"Are you complaining?" she whispered, resting her forearms on his broad shoulders.

"Never."

He leaned up, capturing her lips. The kiss was instant fire. There was no hesitation left. Harry’s hands slid frantically from her hips up to her waist, his thumbs tracing the sides of her bump with a reverent awe before traveling higher to map the curve of her spine.

"I wanted you the second I saw you in the shadows," he confessed against her jaw, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Standing up there, knowing you were watching me do my job. It drove me completely insane."

He leaned up to capture her lips, but Y/N turned her head just a fraction of an inch at the last second. His mouth brushed hotly against her cheek instead.

Harry let out a confused, frustrated breath. He pulled back slightly, looking at her with a raised brow. "What are you doing?"

"I am thinking," she said, her voice light and purposely innocent. She shifted her hips against him, an incredibly slow, deliberate roll that made him close his eyes and groan aloud. "I am thinking that you are a little too used to getting exactly what you want.”

"Y/N," he warned, his hands tightening on her waist.

"It is true," she teased, trailing her wet fingernails lightly down the center of his chest. "You point your microphone at the crowd and twenty thousand girls scream for you. You want room service, they bring it. You want to stop traffic in Paris, you stop it. It makes a man impatient."

"I am not impatient," he argued, though his hips jerked upward instinctively, chasing the friction she had just denied him.

"You think just because you sang one pretty acoustic song while looking at my box, I am going to make it easy for you?" she asked, a cheeky smile spreading across her lips.

Harry opened his eyes. They were dark, dangerous, and completely captivated by her. "It was a very good song."

"It was decent," she conceded playfully, shifting against him once more, torturing him with the slow drag of her body against his. "But I am not one of your fans, Harry. You cannot just flash a dimple and expect me to melt."

"You are already melting," he pointed out, his voice dropping into a thick, vibrating growl. His wet thumbs traced the sensitive skin of her upper thighs under the water. "I can feel it."

A flush of heat crept up Y/N’s neck, but she refused to back down. She leaned in, her lips hovering a mere breath away from his mouth. She could feel his erratic breath fanning across her skin.

"Maybe," she whispered mischievously. "But you still have to ask nicely."

Harry let out a dark, beautiful laugh that vibrated against her chest. "You are absolutely evil tonight. Do you know that? Pure evil."

"I am pregnant," she corrected him smoothly. "I am allowed to be demanding. Now, tell me again what you were thinking about while you were up on that stage."

"I was thinking about this," he rasped, his restraint finally snapping.

His hands slid from her waist to her lower back, pressing her flush against his aching center. He did not give her the chance to turn her head this time. He captured her lips in a bruising, desperate kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to swallow the cheeky laugh bubbling in her throat.

Y/N arched her spine, the playful teasing melting instantly into a raw, consuming need. The water splashed over the marble edge as they moved together. He kissed her jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses down her throat, entirely surrendering to her pace.

"I want you," he confessed against her wet skin, his voice completely wrecked. "I want you so much it is making me insane. Please, Y/N."

The teasing had done its job perfectly. Her own body was trembling with anticipation, the heavy ache low in her stomach demanding release.

"Okay," she breathed, her hands tangling tightly into his wet curls. "Show me."

Harry let out a dark, beautiful laugh. He did not grant her request immediately. Even with his own restraint entirely shattered, he wanted to take his time. He wanted to make sure she was completely unraveling for him.

He leaned forward, bypassing her mouth entirely to press his lips to the sensitive curve of her neck. He sucked gently at her pulse point, letting his teeth graze the soft skin just enough to make her gasp. His wet curls brushed against her collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Under the warm water, his hands slid from her waist, trailing slowly over the firm swell of her stomach.

He parted her thighs gently, and Y/N let out a shuddering breath as his hand found her slick center. The warm bath water mixed with her own heavy arousal, making his touch completely frictionless and incredibly sensitive.

Harry stroked her slowly at first. He found the swollen bundle of nerves and circled it with his thumb, pressing perfectly while sliding two long fingers deep inside her.

Y/N arched her spine instantly, throwing her head back away from him as her chest bowed out. Her hands gripped his wet biceps tightly to keep herself from slipping under the water.

"Harry," she whimpered, her earlier cheeky confidence melting entirely into pure, liquid need.

"You feel so good," he murmured against the exposed skin of her throat, his breathing ragged and uneven. He increased his pace slightly, his fingers curling and pressing deep inside her, exploring how soft and swollen she was. "So incredibly wet."

He kept kissing the base of her neck, moving up to her jaw, catching her breathless moans with his open mouth. The slow, deliberate rhythm of his hand between them matched the erratic thumping of his heart against her chest. He was so attentive, watching her face closely, mapping every single reaction to his touch.

She was trembling in his arms, the tension coiling tight low in her stomach. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to draw out the pleasure until she felt like she was floating.

When she felt the first sharp, curling wave of a climax threatening to break, her nails dug into his shoulders. "Please," she begged softly, her eyes fluttering shut. "Harry, please."

He pulled his fingers back slowly, leaving her aching and empty for only a second. He replaced his hands on her hips, lifting her slightly in the warm water to adjust her position. The buoyancy of the tub made her feel weightless in his arms.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N forced her heavy eyes open, meeting his dark green gaze.

He guided her down, taking him in with an agonizingly slow, deep slide. Harry let out a profound, shuddering exhale. His head fell back against the wet marble rim, his eyes squeezing shut as he absorbed the intense, overwhelming sensation of finally having her exactly where he wanted her.

Y/N let out a soft cry, collapsing forward now to rest her forehead against his. Both of them paused just to breathe the same steamy air, letting their bodies adjust to the intimate connection.

When Harry finally opened his eyes, they were completely blown wide. He brought his hands up from her hips, trailing them slowly over the curve of her waist until both of his large palms rested protectively over the firm swell of her stomach beneath the wate

"I cannot believe this is real," he breathed, his voice completely wrecked. His thumbs swept gently over her wet skin. "I can’t believe you are real”.

Y/N felt a sudden, vulnerable tightness in her throat. "I feel huge" she whispered shakily, a shy flush creeping up her neck.

"No," Harry interrupted instantly. His hands tightened on her waist, and he surged upward slightly, pressing a deep, desperate kiss to her mouth.

“You are glowing” he gasped, his hips beginning to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent ripples crashing over the edge of the tub. “You completely ruin me.”

The raw, breathless sincerity in his words stripped away every last ounce of insecurity she had been holding onto. Y/N let out a soft sob, leaning down to capture his mouth in a hungry, passionate kiss.

Harry met her entirely, taking control with a beautiful, devastating tenderness. The water provided a slick, effortless resistance. With every slow, deep thrust, Harry brought his lips to her skin, kissing her jaw, her neck, the sensitive curve of her collarbone.

“so perfect”, he murmured like a prayer between ragged, heavy breaths, making sure she felt every single inch of his devotion.