[ASTRID REESE]
London, England

★ ★ ★

It was late and Astrid Reese felt disappointed.

Midnight.

One o'clock.

Two o'clock.

Astrid watched the time tick by with what felt like an incurable ache between her soft thighs. Bare naked beneath the duvet brought back memories from the day she came into this world. Well, what she supposed to be memories, since she couldn't remember anything. Simply, she imagined this is what it felt like to touch whatever material they wrapped her in to make sure she wasn't cold.

Then her foot touched a rather hairy leg so close to hers that she almost jumped out of her skin. With that, she was forced to remember the agonising pain that quite literally made her pussy pulsate. Even hours later, she found it impossible to process how a man as insanely handsome and charming and picture perfect as Harry happened to be, failed to make her come. Astrid laid in bed, wide awake after he collapsed on top of her for a couple of minutes then rolled onto his side of the mattress, and wondered. She wondered how could Harry Styles have failed her?

How?

For as long as she'd been awake, he flirted with her at the bar. Buying drink after drink, they almost had to be kicked out when the closing time rounded the corner like an old friend. Clouds faded Astrid's thinking like they cover the sun on a bright, summer day, whilst they stood out in the cold and her teeth chattered as they waited for an Uber to arrive because Harry couldn't let her leave on her own. He offered to have her dropped off at home, with him in the vehicle, but that plan went out the window pretty fast. As Astrid thought back to it, she supposed it was her innocent grip around his forearm that did him in, using him to steady herself. Immediately, Styles looked at her, green eyes boring into hers after he had examined every little part of her face like it was his job, and the next thing she knew, he was asking for permission to snog her face off.

Because that was no kiss, alright.

Astrid only had to move a little bit in the bed to feel the ache in her back from how eagerly she was pushed into the brick wall, mounted into the cracks by Harry's weight. His hands roamed up and down her body like he was terrified she would thin into the air around them and he'd never get to touch her again, like he needed to make sure he remembered the outline of her waist and her soft flesh so he could paint it from memory if he turned desperate enough.

Of course, Reese had no issue with this. If anything, every touch imprinted on her skin, around her neck and her throat, the journey of his soft kisses that turned more feverish with every second gone between them, excited her. Dominance controlled the moves of the man by the time the Uber rolled up, his fingers held her throat tighter, his knee rubbed between her thighs rougher, and Astrid Reese adored being handled in that way. Harry had the confidence to ask if she liked what he was doing and he knew how to make her feel amazing.

So, yes, she was disappointed.

There was all this hope and possibility of a wonderful night blowing her mind, a generous continuation of what surprised her outside of the pub and none of her little theories or fantasies came to life. Sure, Harry grabbed and massaged her ass while they checked into the hotel then proceeded to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over her neck, biting into her skin and tasting it like she happened to be his favourite candy once the lift door closed on them, and Astrid loved it.

But she deserved more than that. Although, she knew for a fact that it had been a very long time since she felt so turned on by anyone, because foreplay gradually seemed to lose importance to her ex—which should've been a red flag and a reason to break up, but damn her heart loved that bastard—and no one else she had been with, prior to her relationship, cared enough to excite her. That was most definitely a plus under Harry's name. Hell, as the lift took them up to the room they were given, she had no option but to squeeze her legs together in fear of her arousal dripping down her thighs as Harry's hands and lips explored her, but all she achieved by doing that was the much-needed friction to ease the ache.

And then nothing happened.

Astrid felt so good for a while, goose bumps and erect nipples, warm feelings rushing through her from head to toe. Every thrust and stroke felt like heaven because Harry fit inside of her like a dream. There were a couple of times where she thought she would orgasm right then and there, clenching around him as though her life depended on it, but then he'd move because he needed her legs wider or on his shoulders and the feeling went away. The man seemed entirely distracted while he drunkenly fucked himself into her. In fact, by the end of it, he appeared to be a completely different person and Astrid found she gave up on the whole thing.

She laid there until he came, faking a moan and a whimper when she felt it to be appropriate, a little 'I'm so close' and 'I'm coming' but that was it. Her experience—a fat load of shit. And she refused to accept it.

She could not accept it.

No way.

Not when he felt so good inside of her. Not when he was so good with his lips and his hands fit so fucking nicely around her neck. And especially not when he looked like an angel as he came.

But there was nothing else to do but deal with it. Mostly to her misfortune, the night ended dull and embarrassingly frustrating.

Then three o'clock hit and the surgeon's phone decided to blare through the room like it was a fire alarm, ripping up Astrid's eardrums like a whirlwind ruining concrete building after concrete building. Styles barely moved before the sound of something hitting the ground ended the screaming on the alarm and it was just Harry breathing, fresh out of his deep slumber.

Not too long after his awakening, he decided to flick on the little lamp on his side, illuminating the entire hotel room in an orange glow. Astrid let out a quiet groan and tugged the duvet over her head to block out the brightness, her eyes feeling sensitive to the environment. That, of course, caught Harry's attention, who apologised quickly and the next thing Astrid heard was water running and she remained alone in bed. Finding it to be the perfect opportunity, she revealed herself from beneath the covers, breathing normally now as her eyes got used to the light.

"Why are you awake?" Harry asked her and it completely caught her off guard because she assumed he disappeared into the bathroom already. The question being the first time he spoke properly since he awakened meant his voice sounded like sandpaper, and much to Astrid's dismay, it did things to her.

"Personally," she began while pushing a pillow behind her back to get comfortable in the bed that was now all hers. And it would be, at least until she had to leave because they only booked the room for the night. "I've always found it incredibly difficult to fall asleep horny."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes, I hoped you would be," she sighed dramatically, parts of her hoping he would be able to put two and two together before she had to reveal the truth to him. Parts of her also hoping he would tear up the duvet, push her legs apart and devour her instantly.

"I, um, I—I'm sorry, I have no idea—I have to get ready. There's been an emergency and I'm needed at the hospital," he told her, clearly miles away mentally. And that was sad, Astrid believed, because if, in the future, he would always run off like this, after giving her nothing but tired and drunk and boring sex, then how would this work, really?

"You were drinking not too long ago and now you're going in to operate on someone?" she asked him in a very judge-y tone because the thought made her wonder if other doctors did that and what would happen if she was rushed into surgery to be handled by someone who had been drinking? It could've been the lack of sleep or Astrid's usual overthinking, but she did not like those thoughts.

"I had one drink and a sip of whatever you ordered when I found you. I will be okay," he aimed to reassure the woman.

"Still... you drank. And you slept for what? Not even four hours?"

"Plenty of time for that one drink to leave my system."

"You're in charge of whether someone lives or dies," Astrid told him, even though she had a feeling he knew this, but she didn't care for it. Perhaps if he did know, he wouldn't have had the drink. "They wouldn't call you unless you were on-call. You made the decision to—,"

"I don't have time for this," abruptly, Harry cut her off while he pulled his trousers on and clumsily tucked his shirt under its waistband. Disturbed from sleep brought out a side of him that Astrid wasn't sure she liked.

"Well, while you're getting ready, I will tell you anyway that I think it's unprofessional and unethical for you to do something like this. This shouldn't be allowed."

What should be allowed, Astrid thought to herself, was her getting on her knees right then and there to show him how to make someone feel good. The idea popped into her head purely because of how the man looked. There was something about the sleepy eyes and face, with the bed-post-sex hair, the scruff that homed on his face and covered up the line of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. His appearance, and the inability to hook the button into the hole on his trousers, made for the perfect mixture of sexy and adorable.

"I have been a surgeon for five years, I kno—,"

"So, you're admitting to the fact that you have been drinking and operating for five years?"

"No, I did not say that."

"You implied."

"I did not."

Arching a brow in curiosity, Astrid asked, "So, this is your first rodeo?" while Harry stood there, unbuckled trousers, hair split down the middle and curling against his temple.

"What are you trying to achieve?" he questioned, sighing as he went back to getting ready.

"Just thinking of the poor person's insides you'll be cutting into and sewing together, half asleep and tipsy."

"I don't cut people's insides."

"So, what will you be operating on, then?" she wondered, laughing a little as she felt clueless.

"I thought I shouldn't be operating because it's unprofessional and unethical, therefore it shouldn't be allowed," he bit back at her and she had to try her hardest to not gasp.

But she gasped, anyway.

Harry responded to her in such a cheeky manner that she almost didn't expect it. The attitude he was giving her, seemed to have disappeared from one second to another, and it wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, because a man with an attitude was the last thing she wished to deal with so early in the morning. But she couldn't lie and say it didn't surprise her.

"Yes, it is, and no, it should not be allowed," she told him eventually. Harry chuckled and shook his head at her but said nothing to her.

It wasn't too long before the silence overwhelmed the room. Breathing felt too difficult. Astrid was exhausted. A long work day, hours of drinking, and draining, frustrating sex with a man, that could otherwise make her reach highs she's only ever dreamed of before by simply looking at him, put her through a lot. Sleep was all she needed yet couldn't get.

"Check out by eleven, otherwise you'll find some very angry cleaning personnel banging down the door," he mentioned like it was the most normal thing for him to say, and maybe it was. Astrid thought that if he looked the way he did and he was clearly single, he had many experiences like theirs. He had to, right?

"Sounds like you would know."

"I know a lot," he responded, leaving her to roll her eyes. Of course, he would say that, Astrid thought. Harry proved to her through the night just how good he is with words—well, his mouth in general. She had a taste of it, though definitely not enough.

And so, as he found his shoes and fitted them on his feet, she couldn't help but bite down on her lip as the nerves rushed through her, giving her a high that felt otherworldly. Harry tugged on his hoodie and ran his fingers between the brown strands of his hair.

"So, you know you'll see me again."

"Pretty certain about it, actually," the cockiness dripped from his words like honey, golden and extremely sweet, sticking until it couldn't and Astrid felt a little sick from it. Her initial reaction was to gag, then the deliriousness swarming through her like tiny ants before heavy rainfall, almost made her swoon and drool right in front of him. Catching herself in time to avoid the face burning embarrassment, she resulted to a mysterious little hum, though she couldn't be sure it sounded like she hoped it would.

"Alright," she sighed to attract his attention. Harry glanced up at her, with a loose strand of hair falling in front of his eye, his mouth slightly apart as he must've been concentrating extremely hard, and it killed Astrid. The constant question of, 'how the hell did this man fail to make me come?' ran through her head, almost like it was on endless loop and it annoyingly reminded her of Sofia's vinyl, the one Astrid got her for Christmas because Sofia happened to be obsessed with the Arctic Monkeys. Jameson dropped it once and ever since then, it's been skipping and making insane noises when played, kind of like a broken record.

"Hm?"

"Give me your number."

"I'm sorry?"

"Give me your number so I can text you when I'm free for you to see," she responded as he continued staring at her with a rather confused facial expression. It pleased her to see him so thrown off and Astrid assumed it was because he didn't expect her to be so forward.

Harry laughed a little as he allowed his speechlessness to sit in the open and feed Astrid's ego. Not that she believed it to be anything but healthy.

"You are one of a kind, Astrid Reese," he addressed her by her full name and her stomach turned at the sound. Almost like it came to life. Perhaps the butterflies people write about decided to fly. As he walked closer to her, she held her breath and her eyes ran up and down his body, remembering the weight in his steps that caused his hips to move gently. Poking a hole in her bubble of wonderland, he asked her, "Did anyone ever tell you that?"

And the only way she felt it to be right to respond was, "A couple of people, sure," with a little shrug of her shoulders.

Harry was left to laugh, once again, then proceeded to recite his number from the top of his head. All the while Astrid noted the digits, she made sure to comment, 'of course, you know your number', just under her breath. Harry hummed, questioning what she said, but she ignored him and saved him in her phone under his full name.

"And just so you know, I would never dare to go to work intoxicated," Harry's voice turned a little colder to clear his name in the eyes of the naked woman, hiding beneath the sheets. "I have never done it and it is not in my future plans to ever do so."

"Okay."

"Okay," he reiterated and picked up his belongings before he headed for the door. No goodbye hug. No goodbye kiss. One last glance from him caused Astrid's entire body to warm up quicker than she thought it to be possible and he was gone.

Harry Styles was gone and she couldn't turn herself around then into her preferred position quicker to take care of herself like she deserved. 

★ ★ ★

[A.N.]

[I'm always so excited for Sundays! Having a somewhat-ish schedule for updating makes me feel so nostalgic lol. I missed doing this - writing something I'm actually excited about.] 

[What do we think of Harry + Astrid so far? Their dynamic feels so different to me! I've noticed in the past that I made my characters very similar, so I'm trying to leave those samples behind, and make Astrid someone new. Fingers crossed she is turning out great!] 

[As always, don't forget to vote and comment! Love interacting with your thoughts and theories :).] 

[With love, B.]