love on tour: the groupie (extras)
based on this ask: okay but does harry ever think of groupie yn when he’s fucking other girls?
warnings: sexual content, oral (f), degradation and objectification, daddy kink, 18+ please
They’re in bed, both naked and sweat still dripping down their bodies. She watches her abs clench, then unclench as the droplets of sweat chase each other, until they reach his groin and she finally looks up, their eyes meet, and she smiles. He smiles back, one hand holding a mug as the other itches the side of his neck– the hickeys looking almost like tiny strawberries beginning to spread all over.
“What?” He says, backing up against the headboard as he takes frequent sips from his tea.
“How was Brooke?” She says, grinning. She knows she’s being silly, though any chance to see Harry worked up is a good one.
Harry, though, he’s not grinning– there’s no trace of a smile on his face. He’s frowning into his mug, then places it on the bedside table.
“You two keep asking after each other,” he says, as nonchalantly as possible. She knows that’s not the case. “Did you two meet somewhere and fall in love?”
“You don’t know her,” Harry gets up, and reaches for his robe. He throws hers at her. “Why do you ask?”
“I meant,” she says, tying the knot on her robe. “How was the sex, Harry. Not Brooke herself. I couldn’t care less about her.”
A devilish grin appears on his face.
“Right,” he keeps grinning and reaches for her, grabs her by the neck, and presses their mouths together.