How about pegging dominant harry? You're fucking him senseless but he's still telling you what to do, how he wants to be fucked, how good you're being for him.
I like this concept a lot I can’t believe I’m sweating gallons
Okay so just imagine Harry coming back from the New York premiere, feeling all high and mighty because for the last couple of days he’s been surrounded by people praising him for his talents and kissing the ground he walks on so he’s feeling cocky.
He gets to the hotel, walking into the room with his shoulders back, buttons on his expensive shirt already half undone and he’s working the knot in his tie loose, toeing off his leather shoes carefully and walking around the side of the bed. You’re watching a rerun of Scooby Doo, smelling him before you even see him. He’s wearing his favorite Tom Ford cologne, smelling all musky and manly with notes of citrus, cedarwood and ocean salts and he’s just so damn tempting.
Harry kneels onto the bed, mattress dipping under his weight as he crawls towards you, one arm stretching onto the opposite side of your torso, caging you under him as he hovers over you’re body, tie hanging from around his neck and shirt wide open to expose all of the tats on his tanned chest.
“Yeah,” you answer softly, arms reaching up to drape over his shoulders and wrap around his neck, pulling him down to your lips.
The kiss is slow and tender at first, with gentle sucking and a little bit of tongue. His body gives and melts on top of yours, one knee propped against the bed in between your legs as the other straddles your thigh. One hand is cupping your jaw as the other grips the back of the opposite thigh roughly, all of his chunky rings biting at your skin over the material of your bunny pajama pants.
Harry is the one who takes the first step in making it a heated night. He bites at your bottom lip all of the sudden, causing you to yelp into his mouth, pulling back in surprise. But he refuses to let you, suckling at your now swollen lip and hissing into your mouth.
“Fuck me.” His voice is deep and raspy, yet smooth like velvet and thick like molasses. The hand groping your thigh begins to rock your leg back and forth, resulting in your center rubbing against the knee he has placed between your own.
His eyes bore into you, a dark mossy green with bronze specks littered throughout its depth. They show nothing but utter lust and a twinge of haughtiness.
“Yeah?” You tug at the collar of his dress shirt, pushing it back until it starts to roll down his shoulders. “Want me to ride you?”
But Harry shakes his head, thumb caressing your chin as an ominous smirk pinches his dimples into place. “I don’t mean it as in, ‘fuck me.’ I mean it as in fuck me.”