“What’re you doing, babe?” I ask, my brows furrow as I watch you lower yourself down to the floor from your seat and crawl under the table.

“I—I dropped my napkin.” You reply, your voice is slightly slurred from the champagne we’ve been drinking, you settle yourself between my legs under the table.

“{{user}},” I pause. “Why are y-“

The words die in my throat, I suck in a sharp breath when I feel your hands on my thighs. I quickly realise where this is going. I look around our table. Thankfully, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn are all chatting, laughing and drinking. They’re oblivious to the fact that you’re underneath the table. Honestly, I’m not surprised by your actions, you’ve been mentioning how sexy you think I look in my tailored black suit. The mentions of you wanting to tie my wrists with my tie when we get home already had me wanting to put you over my shoulder and get you home, desperately wanting us to be alone. After a few too many glasses of champagne, we’re both in equal need for each other.

We’re all having dinner in a private dining room in a posh restaurant in Camden, celebrating the announcement of our ‘take me home’ tour. Of course, I brought you along with me, celebrating my career wouldn’t feel right without you.

Your hands trail up my thighs, I can already feel my jeans getting uncomfortably tight, you start to undo the clasp of my belt. I should protest, we’re at the dinner table with all of our friends. But I can’t. Luckily the boys are too engrossed in their conversation to realise what’s happening under the table.

You fully undo my belt, immediately relieving a little bit of the pressure in my jeans and I instinctively lift my hips.

“Keep going but, fuck, if we get caught we’ll never hear the end of this.” I whisper, my tone breathless and laced with pent up desire. I glance up, making sure the boys are still unaware.