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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 9 months

Text

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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gurugirl · 1 year

Text

Tell Me You Hate Me*

Summary: Based on this request - You and Harry work together as bartenders and your relationship is hot and cold which infuriates you to no end. But you can't say you don't find him attractive, regardless of his cocky attitude.

A/n: I have never written anything like this before so please give it some love and keep an open mind! This is harry x male!reader/ enemies to lovers and I had a lot of fun writing this one. Thanks for the idea 🐊 anon!

12k+ words

Warning: Smut, angst, mentions of an accident, a little bit of forceful & unwanted attention/flirting (not from reader or Harry), mentions of smoking weed

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You couldn't stand Harry most days. He was a cocky asshole and he didn't care about anyone but himself. You both worked the same shift at the local bar in town, Reggie’s, and so you'd gotten to know Harry by default. And when a couple of patrons were making some joke about you liking guys, Harry shut them down quickly and it left you confused because you didn't think he gave a shit.

But he was still a cocky asshole. It didn't change his personality or anything. However, you did find a small warm spot for him after that day.

And tonight, he was either leading you on or genuinely flirting with you. You couldn't tell actually. At first, it seemed genuine. You were at an after-work party for the employees at Reggie’s. The boss had hit a milestone and so he invited all of his employees (and you were sure some of his neighbors as well) to his house for a night of partying as thanks for all the hard work. And from the moment you arrived, Harry began complimenting you. Then when he cornered you in the living room, he stood close and you saw his eyes travel down your body before he lightly pinched your arm, winked, and walked away.

When you found him again a little later he asked you to join him to get a drink in the kitchen. He was standing close again, leaning in to make sure you could hear him. Told you that you smelled good. Licked his lips while he watched your mouth when you responded. Touched your arm and your chest. Your limbs heated up and the hair on your arms raised after he brushed his hand on your skin. You kind of thought it might go somewhere but you were both pulled away from one another when Harry was called over to join a game of beer-pong and Cynthia from work was going through a mini-crisis and needed your advice.

And then as the house was clearing out and most people were gone, you went upstairs to get your backpack (which was where everyone had put their stuff at your boss’s directions). You hadn't seen Harry for nearly an hour and assumed he'd left already.

But you were wrong.

The moment you opened the door to the bedroom there he was, pants pulled down with a girl between his legs sucking him off. You were stunned at first, paused mid-movement when you locked eyes with him.

The cocky smirk on his face made you feel hot but it was Harry's words as he stared back at you that had you feeling frustrated and angry even. And maybe the tiniest bit turned on. Just the tiniest bit.

"You like that don't you?" He breathed his words out as he put his hand on the back of the girl's head and you heard her hum affirmatively.

"Yeah? So fucking hot isn't it? My big cock getting sucked on..." Harry's smile was infuriating. You swallowed hard, trying to move but you were frozen as if his eyes on you had some kind of magic spell that kept you from motion.

Harry leaned back a little further and the girl worked harder, "I'm gonna come if you keep doing that..." his deep breathy voice had you tingling. Was he talking to you? Why was he looking at you when he spoke?

The girl gurgled and shifted on her knees. She still didn't know you were standing there and Harry didn't bother to notify her either.

"That's it... just enjoy it..." he groaned as his eyes got droopier, but he continued looking at you, "yess... don't stop. M'gonna come now, keep looking at me like that..." his moaned words were clear and the girl grunted and stopped what she was doing, popped her mouth off of Harry's cock and looked up at him.

"But I wasn't looking at you..." Harry laughed and took the back of her head, pushing her back down on him.

He turned his eyes back to you, "That's okay... just keep doing what you're doing."

You snapped out of it and blinked, shooting your eyes around the room, and spotted your backpack. You couldn't leave without the backpack because your keys were inside. If you walked past Harry to grab your bag the girl would know you were there but you had no choice. You. couldn't just stand there and watch Harry get head while he stared at you.

So you took a deep breath and broke the spell of Harry’s gaze and walked past the threshold of the door and grabbed your bag. The girl stopped what she was doing with wide eyes and gasped, covering her mouth.

"Sorry!" You spoke quickly but the girl hopped up and ran from the room in embarrassment. Poor thing.

Harry laughed and tilted his head to the side and nodded toward his cock, which was a very pretty cock by the way, "Want to finish me off?"

You shook your head as you muttered, disgusting, and left the room as quickly as possible. What an asshole. The way he'd just treated that girl (and you) was awful. You hurried down the stairs and shook your head. As hot as he was, he was a cocky asshole and that was the truth.

You pulled your backpack straps over your shoulders and hastened your steps away from the house. You had planned on getting an Uber but you were so flustered and upset over everything that had just happened, you figured a brisk walk would be better.

You cursed to yourself as you remembered the way he made you feel earlier in the evening. His subtle flirting and soft touches… you started to think a little differently of him, fondly even. But then that last little stunt had you feeling angry and disappointed even. Disappointed in yourself for thinking Harry was actually flirting with you. Maybe even disappointed that Harry was still the Harry you knew he was. Just a cocky asshole.

On Friday night the bar was packed. Guests filled the bar stools and tables, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. He was late for his shift. Again. It wasn’t too uncommon to have to deal with Harry being late. But on a busy Friday night? That was unusual. He was always on time when it was a busy night.

You did your best to man the bar by yourself while Cynthia and Joe served the tables and busted them between guests. Normally it was you and Harry at the bar serving the drinks and manning the cash registers. You felt your anger for Harry build with every minute that he was late.

Finally, an hour after his shift began, Harry trudged through the door with his hair pulled back in a messy bun, dark circles under his eyes, and he smelled. It was as if he hadn’t showered or bothered to make himself look presentable. You could still admit he was hot but your hatred for him at that moment overrode your hormones.

Harry walked into the back room to clock in as you uncapped two beers and handed them to the girls sitting at the end of the bar. The two girls were young. They were ID’d right away because you weren’t going to get into trouble for them being underage. But their IDs said they were 21. You’d keep an eye on them, though. They even acted very immaturely. It was normal for people to get a bit tipsy, loud, and flirty… it was part of the atmosphere of being at a bar late at night. But these two were obnoxious. In fact, they were attempting to flirt with you. Unfortunately for them, you weren’t into females. But they didn’t need to know that. If you had to suffer through their annoying screeching laughter and attempts at hitting on you, you’d deal with it if they gave you a good tip at the end of the night. You could only hope.

Harry joined you behind the bar and began getting to work right away. He served a few drinks, used a rag to wipe up the condensation and spills on the bar top, and tucked the rag into his back pocket as he went to the register to add the order to his guest’s tab. You hated that he was so fucking good-looking. His tight black jeans hugged his thighs and his ass and made that lump at the front of his zipper look like a delicacy you could snack on. He wore a black t-shirt that was loose at his hips but was the tiniest bit snug at his broad shoulders. You tried to ignore the way your thoughts turned carnal at just the sight of the fucker.

One thing about Harry was that he was actually good at his job. He rarely missed a beat, cleaned as he went, smiled and chatted when it was appropriate, and stayed professional (with the guests at least). You didn’t usually mind working with Harry. He wasn’t a bad co-worker. But when the bar would clear out and you two would be cleaning up and restocking for the following day was when his true colors shined. He was a dick.

“You were late today. We needed you on time, Harry,” you spoke to him as you poured Jim Beam into a glass and Harry poured two shots for the obnoxious girls at the end of the bar. You could smell the slightest touch of his body odor mixed with his cologne when you spoke to him. Normally Harry smelled good like cologne and soap. But today he was off.

Harry glanced at you with an unamused look, and lifted up the shot glasses, bumping into you as he walked past. The glass of Jim Beam sloshed and some of the liquid spilled over the lip of the glass. You cursed under your breath as you corrected the issue by wiping the outside of the glass and then pouring a splash more inside.

And that’s how the night went. You’d get nary a glance from him and he continued to bump into you, jostling you and one time nearly making you lose your footing. Yet never once a sorry or even acknowledgment of his actions.

“Hey! C’mere!” One of the annoying girls was motioning to you with her pointer finger.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Harry had just refilled their drinks. You couldn’t understand what they might want at that very moment.

You whipped the rag in your hand over your shoulder and made your way to the end of the bar the girls were seated, “What’s up?”

“I was hoping you could take a picture of us. Would you mind?” The blonde asked.

You shrugged, “Sure. No problem.”

The girl looked at her phone screen and then glanced at her friend with a grin and handed you the phone.

You watched as the two girls smushed together for the picture and then looked down at the screen and groaned in annoyance at the picture that was staring you in the face. It was of the blonde. With her naked boobs in view and the curve of her hip popped out to the side, holding her fingers up in a peace sign.

You frowned and sat the phone down and looked back to the girls who were giggling and just before you could say something Harry was plucking the phone up from the bar and laughing.

He leaned over the bar top toward the girls, placing his elbows down and turning his head to look at you before looking back to the obnoxious set, “He’s not interested in boobs. Sorry girls. Me, on the other hand…” he tapped his fingers as he slid the phone back to the blonde, “I love ‘em.”

The girls' laughter was loud and forced. It pissed you off. Harry’s attitude all night had been the worst, and now these girls were laughing at something he said, which included mentioning your preferences. It wasn’t that you cared much if people knew you liked guys. It’s just that that was your business. You told people when it made sense to. Otherwise, no one needed to know what you liked or what you were attracted to. But Harry just alluded to your preferences without even asking you if that was okay. And the way he acted with those girls was also unlike him. He normally kept very professional while he was working.

And you knew that Harry liked guys too. He liked everyone really. You’d seen him with that girl at the party, and he talked about giving head to a guy he dated a few months ago. But you’d never just freely tell people what you knew about him.

You grabbed the back of his tricep and gripped hard so he understood your anger as you leaned in to say, “Fuck you, you nasty asshole. Pretty sure they’re both minors with fake IDs anyway. Have fun getting your cock sucked by a kid.”

You steered clear of the girls the rest of the night and continued serving the rest of the guests as if nothing had happened. But inside you were fuming.

After you told Harry you thought the girls were minors he also kept his distance. Served them when they wanted something but he toned down his flirtations with them immediately. Dumb fuck.

When the bar closed Joe and Cynthia told Harry that he was going to stay after to help them clean up and restock for opening since he was an hour late for his shift. You grabbed your bag and made a beeline to the door, not wanting to do anything with Harry or hear him make any snide remarks.

Just as you opened the front door you did hear him, though, “At least I can get my dick sucked.”

You paused for a moment before walking out into the night, the door closing behind you with a thud.

You just couldn’t understand his attitude toward you or why he took up for you that day all those months ago, or why he flirted with you at that party. You decided it might be time to find another job. Harry was insufferable tonight and if you had a repeat of tonight it’d end in a fight. Harry would probably win in all honesty, but you wouldn’t back down in taking a swing at him if necessary.

The next evening at Reggie’s you were notified that Phillip was filling in for Harry. Harry had supposedly had a family emergency and would be taking a little time off. You hated to be thankful that Harry had an emergency, but you were. And the whole night at work was great. Phillip was excellent to work with and no one tried making you feel like shit. But your mind did wander to Harry a time or two. You figured he was making something up so he didn’t have to be at work. It made you feel better to think that anyway.

~~ two weeks later ~~

Your day off midweek was something you always cherished. Most people wanted to have their weekends free but you loved having a day during the week while everyone was working so you could grocery shop, go to a matinee, walk around downtown and enjoy the streets that were not nearly as busy as they were on the weekends in peace. Which is what you were doing today. You had planned on getting your haircut, then you’d sit by the river at Mary’s Tap and get a glass of white wine and Baja tacos and enjoy the sunshine, have a quick trip to Trader Joe’s, then head back to your apartment.

You didn’t have a whole lot of friends. A few close ones with whom you kept in touch but you saw them once a month and that’s really all you needed. You got enough interaction with your fellow humans at work. You were a typical introvert. You did well in social settings but at the end of the night, you appreciated your alone time at home by yourself. Some nights you felt like it would be nice to have someone to enjoy your alone time with. Maybe one day.

After you got a bit of a trim and did some window shopping on your way to Mary’s Tap. You were waiting under the bridge at the light as cars were traveling and you could see the river and Mary’s just across the sidewalk on the other side when something caught your eye.

It was Harry. And he was with a young woman. He had his arm wrapped around her back and they were walking very slowly. It almost seemed as if the woman was hurt and Harry was holding her steady. You watched on for a bit in curiosity.

They began to cross the street at the green light and they were headed your way. Slowly. You looked up and down the street, hoping it was clear so you could cross without Harry seeing you but it was too busy and by the time you turned your head back toward the strange sighting, Harry had already seen you.

You raised your brows and nodded at him and he nodded in kind before you turned back to look across toward the river hoping the light would change fast before you were forced to say something or have any awkward exchanges with him.

Unfortunately, they were headed in the same direction as you were.

“Oh. Do you guys know each other?” The young woman asked and you turned to look at her and then at Harry.

Harry gave her a soft smile and nodded, “Yeah. He’s a coworker.”

The light turned and the three of you began to walk across the street together. You felt like you were somewhat obligated to walk with them since the girl seemed nice and she responded to Harry, “Ah! Well, sorry that you probably haven’t seen Harry in a while. He’s been doing the good brotherly thing and taking care of his poorly sister for a bit,” she laughed and then coughed.

You looked at the woman and smiled. She had some similar features to Harry. You could see the resemblance now that she’d called herself his sister.

Once you were safely on the sidewalk you turned and put your hand out, “I’m Y/n.”

She smiled and put her hand into yours, “I’m Gemma. Harry’s older sister.”

You made small talk as you walked along the sidewalk and just as you were about to say your goodbyes to the pair they followed behind you to the path that took you to the river to Mary’s Tap, “Oh. Are you two getting lunch here?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. S’Gemma’s favorite spot. It’s nice by the river and it’s a sunny day so figured some food and sunshine would be good.”

Gemma laughed and nudged at Harry, “He’s been trying to get me out of the house for the last couple of days. Finally worked today. Still so sore from the accident,” she inhaled a sharp breath as you three made your way down the steps toward the river.

You got on Gemma’s left side and reached your hand out, “Do you want help?”

Gemma nodded and Harry shrugged as he looked at you so you took her left arm and put it over your shoulder gently to give her more support as she made her way down the steps to the river.

And because Gemma was absolutely a gem (it was no wonder her name was Gemma) you sat with them when she invited you. Harry didn’t protest or act put off so you accepted. Hesitantly.

You learned that the night Harry was an hour late to work, Gemma had been in a terrible car accident that morning. He was with her at the hospital all day until they told him they needed to do surgery and he wouldn’t be able to see her until the following day anyway. He made the decision to go to work to keep his mind busy and off of the accident and how worried he was for his sister.

That was why he was late. And only an hour. Given the circumstances, that was actually quite good. You felt bad for being happy he had a family emergency that had kept him away for two weeks.

The waitress came around and took your order. You were a little surprised that Harry ordered the Baja tacos. So you picked something else off the menu not wanting to make it look like you were copying him or anything. But that was a bit disappointing. The Baja tacos at Mary’s were the best.

The three of you chitchatted and Harry was being quite pleasant to your absolute shock. You figured that he was pushing down his urge to be his usual self around his sister. He even commented that he liked your haircut. He noticed it. Another surprise.

“These are the fucking best,” Harry said with his mouth full of the crispy fish taco, “Have you ever tried these? Like, the first time I got them I couldn’t believe they were good because this is just some random tourist bar, but goddamn these are good.”

You nodded with a smile as you looked down at your mushroom burger. The Baja tacos were the best thing on the menu but you made the sacrifice and went with the veggie mushroom burger. Which was good. But not Baja taco-good.

“So… how’s it working with this dickhead?” Gemma said as she gestured toward Harry with a big grin.

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes and looked at you. He knew you weren’t a fan of his. He knew he was a dickhead. He was probably curious as to how you’d respond to his sister with this question.

You laughed and looked from Harry to Gemma, “Well, he is a dickhead. But he’s professional and he works hard. The people who come into Reggie’s like him.”

It wasn’t bad sitting with Harry and his sister. Harry was a bit more charming than he normally was. He wasn’t acting cocky or shitty. He was just being a nice, normal guy. It was a different side to him that you’d only gotten small glimpses of before. But the entire hour and a half with Harry and Gemma, Harry had been kind. And his eyes on you had you feeling like there was something there. It wasn’t obvious or anything but he'd flirted with you in the past and you’d seen the look before.

When the waitress came back you split the bill and then stood up from your chair to help Gemma up with Harry on her other side.

“Guys, I’m sorry to do this but I’ve got to pee, so…” she spoke as she stood to her feet.

You followed behind her and Harry as they made their way inside Mary’s so Gemma could use the toilet. You figured you’d help them back up the steps to the street. It definitely was for Gemma’s sake only because she was so sweet. Certainly not because you found yourself enjoying your time with Harry or that you were hoping for another stolen glance. Certainly not that.

When Gemma disappeared into the women’s room Harry turned to you, “Hey… I know I’m kind of shit. I have no good excuse for how I treat you. Or how I treat anyone else. Gemma’s accident has made me think about things a little differently,” Harry picked at his finger and looked up at you, “Anyway, I’m sorry, Y/n, for being a prick.”

You took his apology in as if you’d just won a free vacation. It was unexpected but also something you felt you deserved. You weren’t sure how to respond at first. You just stared at the handsome man for a moment dumbfounded.

When Harry grinned softly and perked up a brow he asked, “Are you okay?”

You shook your head to clear your confusion and blinked, “Uh… yeah. I’m okay. I just didn’t expect an apology at all. I’m… Well, thank you for that. I accept your apology.”

You helped Harry steady Gemma up the steps to the sidewalk and said polite goodbyes as you parted. But you didn’t stop thinking about Harry on your way to Trader Joe’s. How different he was at Mary’s Tap. He was… kind, likable even. And he apologized on top of it all. It had you regretting how angry you were with him that night and how you were glad he was gone from work with you for two weeks. He actually had a reason for it all. A fucking good reason and so you felt bad. Not too bad, though. Harry had been an absolute dick to you. There was no excuse for the way he treated you that night. But now you understood it at least.

You grabbed your favorite items at Trader Joe’s (chicken soup dumplings, Palak paneer, and cauliflower gnocchi were always on the list) and walked home with your head in the clouds a little. You’d always found Harry quite attractive. Most people did. Harry was physically gorgeous. Lanky and slightly muscular, broad shoulders, a handsome, angular face with a prominent nose, light green eyes, long, soft dark curly hair, a pretty neck… You kind of had a thing for necks and when Harry put his hair back in a bun you could stare at the back of his neck when he was turned away without him noticing. And then there was his voice. God his voice… The first time you heard him speak you thought you were in a dream. A handsomely deep voice with a bit of a rasp, and a breathy laugh, all wrapped in a sexy British accent. And god you couldn’t even get started on his dimples. Or his big hands…

Harry wasn’t just your type. He was everyone’s type. But his personality left something to be desired. You always imagined that if he were just a tiny bit nicer you’d have been more willing to suck him off that day at your boss’s party. You didn’t need a nice guy. Just someone who was respectful and didn’t treat you like shit. Your standards weren’t wildly high you didn’t feel. But Harry had been too disrespectful toward you at times.

But now? Had he really changed for the better? Did his sister’s accident make him a little nicer? Or was this just temporary?

For the first time in weeks, at your next shift, you were disappointed Harry wasn’t working with you behind the bar. Phillip was great. He’d been a star. You appreciated how pleasant he was but you had really been looking forward to seeing Harry. Finding out if he really was a little more pleasant. But that wasn’t in the cards for you that day.

Instead, at around 11 pm, a past mistake named Jude walked into the bar and as the night progressed he made it clear he wanted to see you after you got off work. He was never one to be shy, but why would he? Jude was a very attractive man. Used to getting anything he wanted. He was dressed in a button-down shirt, nice and crisp, tucked into well-fitted trousers. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showcasing his strong forearms and he kept his eyes on you for most of the night, despite the guy sitting next to him.

“There’s a small get-together tonight at a friend’s. Would be nice to have you join me if you’re free when you get off,” Jude had his elbows on the bar, leaning in toward you. The wire-rimmed glasses on his face somehow made him look super sexy. Like a hot professor or something. You were trying so hard to ignore the way you wanted to indulge in your past mistakes but his blue eyes, soft lips, curly hair, and that stupid smirk were wearing away at your resolve.

You shook your head, “I get off at 1. No one’s having a get-together at 1 am, Jude.”

Jude didn’t falter, “Love how you say my name. Always have. But honestly, my friends told me to come by whenever. They said they were staying up all night. Besides, if it winds up being too late, I happen to live in the same building…” his smile widened, “and we can just have our own little get-together. Up to you.”

And there it was.

You hadn’t gotten any in a while. Months. In fact, it might have been Jude who was last in your bed now that you thought about it. You weren’t hard up or anything but Jude was looking awfully tasty tonight.

You squinted as you looked him over before turning back to serve another guest. You weren’t going to give him an answer just yet. The last time you got involved he hurt you. You two were casually dating for a couple of months but you’d gotten too attached too fast. Jude was not interested in anything serious and you knew that. But it didn’t stop your heart from breaking every time he was out with someone else. And then one day he told you it was over because he’d fallen in love with someone else and he wanted to get serious with them. That was a big blow to your ego. He was the first man you’d ever cried over.

But now here was looking like a hot daddy and asking you back to his place to fuck. Well, he didn’t say it in so many words but that’s what he wanted. It was clear. And you did too. Maybe just a night of fun with an old fling would be fun. Right?

Needless to say at 1 am when you left Reggie’s, Jude was leading the way to the Uber he’d ordered.

The condo building was across town. On the drive to this “get-together,” Jude wasted no time in shoving his tongue down your throat and groping your crotch. But you did little to stop it. You were definitely feeling the effects of his charm. Or maybe it was just that you were missing the action.

The party was on the 5th floor. Jude lived on the 7th, you remembered. He knocked on the door and you could hear some music slipping under the door into the hallway so you figured there really was a party of some sort.

When the door swung open you were met with a pair of forest green eyes and long dark hair. The newly familiar face was staring back at you with a big grin.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? Oh my god! Harry!! Look who’s here!” Gemma shouted into the hallway behind her.

Gemma ushered you and Jude inside, the door swinging closed behind you. You noted that Gemma was still limping but she seemed to be moving much better.

“I had to throw a small party. I’ve been so cooped up and just looking at Harry’s face all day every day was driving me crazy!” Gemma spoke excitedly.

Before you turned the corner you saw him, “Yeah? Who…” he stopped in his tracks when he realized you were there.

His face brightened and then he looked at Jude, then back to you, the bright features slowly fading, “Oh… hey, Y/n. Jude. You two come together?”

“We did. And we will later on as well,” Jude said smugly turning to you with a wink.

You cringed at his dumb innuendo. It might have been funny if you weren’t standing face-to-face with Harry, who was looking like sex on legs. Harry of course didn’t even have to try. He just had it. Even with his hair in a bun and graphic t-shirt, he blew Jude out of the water. But it was the way Harry was looking at you after Jude’s remark that really had you feeling a little icky. Guilty?

Was that disappointment Harry wore on his face? You weren’t sure exactly.

Gemma limped back to the three of you with two cans of beer in hand, “For the guests…” she smiled, totally unaware of the turmoil you were suddenly faced with.

You learned the apartment was Gemma’s. She owned it. Harry lived with her. It was small but cute and the finishes were very nice. She had a balcony that overlooked a shared courtyard facing many other balconies.

There were about six other people in the apartment, all of whom you didn’t know. Jude knew a couple of them but you could hardly pay attention to polite introductions when your eyes kept searching for Harry.

When you spotted him outside on the balcony by himself, you excused yourself and walked outside with him, the cool night air hitting your skin and feeling refreshing. It was getting too stuffy inside with Jude next to you. You suddenly didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

“It’s nice out,” you spoke. Harry turned his head to see you just as you put your elbows onto the railing, mimicking his stance looking out over the courtyard. He nodded and then turned his sight back to the courtyard below in silence.

You cleared your throat, not really knowing what to say. You didn’t know why you were so worried about what Harry thought of you arriving with Jude. It wasn’t like you and Harry were dating, or anything even remotely close to that. But somehow you wanted to feel out the situation. Maybe he liked you. Maybe he wanted more than just the occasional flirtation. But it was silly all these ideas in your head because Harry had mostly only ever been a fuckface toward you. Yet, you were soft toward him from the small handful of times he was nice or flirty. And especially after lunch at Mary’s Tap the other day. That had changed everything.

“So, Gemma seems to be feeling good. How’s it going taking care of her?” You figured you’d ask him a question that he’d need to use his voice to respond to you with.

Harry shifted and looked down further over the balcony before clasping his hands onto the railing in front of him and pushed himself so he was angled to face you, “Yeah. She’s been really good. I told her maybe a party wasn’t a great idea but she’s 30. Not much I can do. Probably be back at Reggie’s next week,” he gave a weak smile and looked through the sliding glass doors to see inside and then back to you, “So you know Jude?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask about Jude. In fact, you sort of thought that he more than likely didn’t even care. You thought it was unlikely Harry would be arsed to know about you and Jude, even if you did think you saw the smallest look of disappointment on his face.

You nodded, “Yeah. Used to date. He came into the bar tonight and invited me here…” you laughed and looked down at your hands on the railing and then turned your body to face Harry, “but, he’s just the same as he used to be. Probably shouldn’t have come back with him.”

Harry shrugged and let out a grunt of hmmph… “Well, he is attractive. Quite attractive. I can see why you’d be persuaded.”

You pulled your lips into your mouth and turned to look inside at the people, “Yeah… it’s really the only reason I did. But I’m only reminded of the past now that I’m seeing him again. He hurt me so,” you shook your head and looked back at Harry, “that’s why I think it was probably a bad idea.”

“He hurt you?” Harry’s brows scrunched together a bit causing vertical frown lines at the bridge of his nose to appear.

You smiled, “It was months ago. I started having feelings and then he wanted to see someone else. No big deal.”

Harry frowned, “He dated you and then decided to let you go for someone else? That was his bad.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You looked at Harry for a moment longer and then turned to look back down at the courtyard, Harry following suit. It was moments like that that made your heart pitter-patter. His intense gaze. His eyes. It wasn’t much. But it was a shared glance that was a beat longer than normal. It felt like something.

A few moments of silence enveloped you both until Harry turned his head to look at you and speak, “So, you’re not like, with him then? You’re not going back to his place after this?”

You blinked your eyes and his questions felt like an opening. He was opening up some kind of dialogue that could possibly lead somewhere. You would take the bait. Why not? What did you have to lose? You liked Harry.

“Uh… no. Definitely not with him. I’m glad I came, though. Glad it happened to be at your apartment too…” you spoke as you watched Harry closely for any sign to abandon ship but all you got was a green light when he cocked his head slightly, quirking up a corner of his pink mouth, and his eyes searched your face.

Just then, the sliding glass door was being opened and you heard Jude’s voice, “There you are. Couldn’t find where you wandered off to. So you two know each other?”

Harry stood up straight and smiled at you with a wink before patting Jude on the back and walking inside, leaving you and Jude standing on the balcony together.

You sighed as you watched Harry leave and then turned back to Jude and nodded, “Yeah. We work together.”

Jude turned to look back inside before looking back at you, “Is he the one that’s rude? Heard you talking about some guy you worked with who was an asshole.”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t realize Jude overheard you and Phillip talking about Harry. Phillip had similar feelings about Harry’s lack of tact. But what Jude obviously didn’t hear was that you didn’t agree with Phillip anymore. You didn’t tell Phillip about Harry’s sister because you didn’t think it was your place, but you did tell him that you felt Harry should be cut some slack and that you felt like he might be going through something.

“Yeah. But Harry’s not that bad. He was kind of a dick at first but, I don’t know…” your words were cut off when Jude put his hands on the railing, caging you in and getting a little closer than you would’ve liked, “What do you say we get out of here soon? I want to get down to business with you. You are looking so good, Y/n.”

You leaned away from him as he moved his face closer to yours in an effort to kiss you. Putting your hands up to his chest to create more space you shook your head, “Actually, Jude. I don’t know. It’s probably not good to do anything. I don’t think it ended well between us last time. Ya know?”

Jude scoffed and pressed his hips to yours, “I had no hard feelings about how we left things. But I can tell you I have some hard feelings right now,” he prodded himself toward you and that’s when you felt him under his trousers.

You laughed in disbelief, pushing harder at his chest to make him move off of you, “Stop, Jude. You were fine when you broke up with me. I was not fine, though. I think I should probably just go home.”

You peered inside and saw Harry watching. He could see the spectacle you two were making, but from his view, it looked like two men enjoying one another’s company. He couldn’t tell you were uncomfortable or that you were pushing at Jude to move him off of you. When he made eye contact with you he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

“Oh come on, Y/n. You used to beg for it. Hell, I used to beg for it. I miss that dick of yours. Haven’t had such a pretty one in a long time…”

You cut his words off as you opened the sliding door and looked at Jude, “You don’t get to have my dick anymore, Jude. I have suddenly become aware of what I’m doing and I’m telling you, I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

“Is it Harry? He’s who you want to fuck tonight instead?” Jude spoke in disbelief.

You shook your head and let out a sigh of aggravation before walking back inside.

Gemma was taking a puff of a joint when you sat down next to the coffee table on the floor with your tepid can of beer. You’d barely drunk any of it. Beer wasn’t really your thing, but you were nothing if not polite. You’d drink the beer with a smile on your face. Especially because Gemma was the one who’d given it to you. You really liked her.

The joint was passed around like in one of those 80s movies. You took a puff and passed it along to the girl who sat closest to you. Jude came back inside and tossed his can of beer into the garbage, making a bit of a commotion as he did so.

He plopped himself down close to you and sat back, palms behind himself, “Y/n and I used to date you know,” Jude suddenly spoke loudly over the guy who was talking about his job.

At that moment Harry sat on the couch next to Gemma and took the joint from her to take a hit.

“Really?!” Gemma responded. Harry perked a brow up toward Gemma and then looked at you.

“Yeah. For a few months. Didn’t work out but I saw him at the bar tonight. Didn’t even know he worked there! Didn’t know you worked there either, Harry,” Jude spoke loudly, obnoxiously and then he looked at Harry.

Harry narrowed his gaze at Jude but didn’t speak.

“That’s enough, Jude,” you spoke, quietly leaning toward him.

“I don’t think it’s enough,” Jude sat up straight and all eyes were on him, “I think I want to talk about what tonight is about. For you Y/n,” he turned to look at you and now all eyes were on you.

“What?” You scrunched your face and laughed in half embarrassment and half confusion.

“Tonight. You know what I’m talking about. You had your tongue down my throat, your hand on my crotch,” you heard a few small snickers and gasps as people listened to Jude expose everything you’d done just before you got to Gemma’s apartment, “and now suddenly you’ve changed your mind? So what was this?”

You had your mouth open to respond but you didn’t know what to say. Was he serious? Jude could be forward, pushy even, and you knew he had no shame, but this? You looked at Harry who gave away no emotion on his face. He was looking from you to Jude.

“Well? What is it? I thought maybe you were into Harry and that’s why you suddenly lost interest,” silence from everyone listening to the drama unfold before them, “but then you were just talking shit about him with your co-worker, Phillip was it? So, couldn’t be Harry,” Jude gestured toward Harry.

Now everyone looked at Harry and then back to you and then Jude. It would have been comical if you weren’t the spectacle thrown into the middle of the show.

You shook your head, “No. I wasn’t talking shit about Harry. That’s not true…”

“Oh but it is. I heard you at the bar, and then again just now I asked you and you said that he was a dick. So what is it Y/n?” Jude stared you down and you were dumbfounded. You pushed yourself up to standing and one of the guys got up and helped Jude up, saying how he thought it was time to wrap up the party and best if we left.

You ran your hands through your hair and then reached for your beer to at least take it into the kitchen and dump the contents before leaving. This had just gotten so out of hand and you didn’t know how to dig your way out of it. You could deny all you wanted, but it was your word against Jude’s and Harry had seen him close to you on that balcony and you did arrive with him. Most of what Jude said was true. Just not the important details he exaggerated.

You poured your beer out and could hear Gemma telling Jude it was a good time for him to go and you could feel how hot you were in the face. Your ears were burning, your heart was pounding. You were embarrassed and angry. You placed your palms down on the kitchen counter and lowered your head to breathe. It was so fucked. You definitely didn’t want Harry to think you were some flaky liar who was talking shit about him behind his back.

“You’re still here?” Harry spoke from behind you.

You stood upright and turned to see Harry, still no emotion on his face, “I’m leaving. I just wanted to give Jude a chance to get out of here first. Kind of don’t want to look at him. And… look, I wasn’t talking shit about you. I…”

Harry shook his head and spoke over you, “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. I know I’ve not been nice to you but I guess it turns out you’re not so nice either.”

You shook your head, “I’m… I didn’t…” you didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to hear it. Maybe it was a lost cause. “I’m sorry,” was all you could manage.

Gemma walked in behind Harry and smiled at you, “Uh, he’s gone. I think everyone’s leaving now.”

You nodded and looked from Harry to Gemma, “Hey, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Gemma nodded, “It was mostly just Jude. But I think it was a good time to wrap this up anyway. Getting tired,” she yawned into her palm.

You looked back at Harry hoping you could read something from him at all. Any opening. Any green light to plead your case. But all you got were his words, “Time to leave now.”

You walked passed Harry to leave and when you made it to the front door in the hallway Harry stopped you, “I saw you both on the balcony you know. That’s why I don’t believe you,” he had his arms crossed in front of his chest.

This. This was it. The opening for you to plead your case, “No. He was coming onto me. I was trying to push him off,”

“You’re kind of a liar aren’t you?” Harry smiled unamusedly as he spoke with a laugh of disbelief.

“Harry, I swear. I’m not lying here. He was too close and I was pushing him away,”

“Took you a good few minutes to push him away then did it? He’s not bigger than you, Y/n. If you wanted him off of you he wouldn’t have been practically dry-humping you like that,” Harry scoffed and took a step toward you. Now you could see some emotion on his face but it had you confused. He was mad but there was something else there. His eyes moved down your frame and then Gemma stepped into the hallway.

“Hey, do you guys think you could take it in your room or outside? Please?” Gemma looked at Harry and then at you.

“I’m leaving. Sorry…” you said as you reached for the door handle but Harry put his palm on the door to stop you and looked at his sister, “We’ll keep it down. Sorry Gems.”

You watched Harry as he turned back to you, his face set with the smallest bit of anger still, “We’re not done here. Follow me.”

Harry turned and began to walk down the hall and you stood for a moment with a bit of confusion but then you followed behind Harry and into what you assumed was his bedroom. Harry closed the door behind you and stood with his back to his door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Get it all out. Right here. Tell me how much you hate me. How much of a dick I am. How shitty I was to you. Let’s get it all out in the open,” Harry said as he gestured between himself and you.

You stitched your brows together and shook your head, “Harry… come on. I… at one point yeah, you were shitty, but let’s move on from that. You apologized already.”

Harry shook his head and pushed himself off the door, making one long-legged stride toward you, “Tell me how much you hate me. To my face.”

You blew out a breath of frustration and blinked, “I don’t. I don’t hate you, Harry.”

And then Harry did it again. He glanced downward over your body and then back up to your eyes, “Tell me now. I’m a dick aren’t I?” He brought his hands up to your shoulders and pushed at you, causing you to move back a little. He didn’t push hard but it was more like a bid for attention. Like how you’d try to nudge someone who wasn’t listening.

“No. You’re not. I don’t think that. You already…” but your words were cut off when Harry shoved at you. A little harder this time. But now you were ready for the nudge and you stood your ground, “Stop, Harry.”

“Oh, you want me to stop?” Harry stepped in closer until he was only inches from you. But you felt the heat of excitement trickle down your torso and to your knees. You kept your eyes on Harry’s bright green ones and didn’t make a move to back away. Like a dare almost. A game of chicken. Who would dodge out of the way quicker? You certainly wouldn’t. The impact would be welcome.

“No actually. I don’t want you to stop,” you spoke with as much confidence as you could muster.

“No? You want me to do this?” He tilted his head to the side in question as he shoved you again, a little harder than the last time, causing you to stumble back just a bit but this time you brought your hands up and shoved at his shoulders equally as hard.

“Yeah. I do,” your words were clear and you didn’t break eye contact.

Harry shook his head and stepped in again until the heat you felt wasn’t just from the excitement of the moment, it was coming from his body. You felt goosebumps rise on your arms when Harry spoke in a whisper, “Push me again. Show me how much you hate me.”

So you did. You shoved at him hard. You weren’t a wimp. You figured you could give him a show if that’s what he wanted.

Harry was knocked back a foot and he laughed, “Is that it? Doesn’t feel like hate to me, Y/n.”

You scoffed and pushed him again, stepping in toward him this time, “No? What’s it feel like, Harry?”

Harry’s chest began to rise and fall, and his breathing deepened. He smirked and spoke, “Feels like foreplay.”

You quirked up the edge of your mouth and pushed at his chest, but followed as he moved back from the force, “Is that what this is, Harry?”

Harry shook his head with a laugh of disbelief, keeping the smirk on his face he lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around your neck. You swallowed hard. The simmering in his eyes told you all you needed to know. Your own breathing deepened and you stepped in so close to him that your noses were almost touching.

“Doesn’t feel like you hate me. Feels like you wanna fuck me,” Harry’s deep voice was almost vibrating on your skin as he spoke.

You swallowed again and let out a puff of air from your mouth when you felt Harry’s fingers tighten slightly, “You gonna choke me?”

Harry breathed out from his nose and smiled, “Do you want me to?”

You licked your lips and Harry dropped his mouth open slightly. You could feel his breath on your lips, warm, humid. This was foreplay. That’s what he was doing. His little act that started in the kitchen and was eventually brought to his room… you’d end it here. No more acting.

“Do it,” you spoke as you grazed your lips over his. Harry pushed his nose into the side of yours and you heard him mutter fuck before his lips were slotting between yours and he was squeezing your neck a little harder.

You sucked in air through your nose and brought your arms up over his shoulders and hands into his hair.

He tasted good. His lips were soft and his kiss was encompassing like he’d been starved. Like he needed to get his point across at how turned on he was. You got the hint. Especially when Harry walked you backward to his bed and then shoved you down onto his mattress. You fell down, your bottom hitting the comforter and you looked up at him from your position.

Harry’s cocky smirk reappeared but this time you liked it. You grabbed his arm and pulled him down next to you and pinned his arms down to his sides as you pressed your lips into his neck. You’d always wanted to kiss his neck and you could feel his pulse under the sensitive flesh of your mouth.

Harry gasped and tried moving from your hold but you only tightened it and then licked along his jaw which drew the prettiest moan from Harry’s throat.

“Want me to show you how bad I used to hate you, Harry?” You spoke against his neck and then nipped at the skin.

Harry whimpered and you felt him nod, “Yes.”

You pulled the skin on his neck into your mouth and sucked so you could mark him first and then you straddled his hips and let go of his arms as you tugged at his t-shirt to pull it up. You wanted to take a look.

You knew he had tattoos on his arms and on his chest but you’d never seen his chest bare before. There was nothing in you that was disappointed in what you saw at all. More tattoos than you realized. You lowered yourself down and sucked his right nipple into your mouth, licking around the hair and then you slid a hand up to his neck and kept him held down before you sat back to look down at him.

Harry’s pupils were blown out and he was smiling, “Again. Doesn’t feel like hate at all.”

You laughed and squeezed at his neck, “Oh you’re gonna feel it soon enough. But first I need to know what I’m not allowed to do. As much as I hated you, Harry, I’m still respectful.”

Harry laughed and brought a hand up to lift your t-shirt upward and put his palm on your stomach and moved it upward, “I usually top but I’ll bottom for a good cause. I like everything, Y/n. I’ve got condoms so you can fuck me if you want. Or I can fuck you? Or suck you… I’m open,” he put a hand over your fingers that were squeezing his neck lightly and he tightened it a bit, “you can punish me if you want.”

God did you want. You were into everything. You liked it all too. You liked a cock inside your mouth or your tight hole. You even liked just frotting. Spanking was fun to give and receive, biting, choking… If Harry was really open to anything like he said, this could be a good match.

You lowered your mouth to his to taste his lips again and adjusted your position over him so your hips were aligned. His tight jeans were leaving little to the imagination and his cock was already hard. Good. Because so was yours.

You rocked your hips gently over him and Harry put his hands on your back under your shirt, lifting his hips toward yours.

“Let’s take off these clothes,” you parted from his mouth with a gasp and got off the bed, ripping your shirt over your head and Harry did the same.

He watched you pull your jeans down and you took note of the surprise on his face when you weren’t wearing any underwear.

Harry stood up and slowly undid his pants, his eyes on yours, a cheeky grin on his face. He brought his pants down and Harry was also not wearing underwear.

You both laughed but the laughter only lasted a moment before you two were on each other.

“S’really pretty cock, Y/n. Can I suck on it?” Harry mumbled into your neck as he pressed his body into yours.

You moaned and nodded, “Yeah. On the bed.”

Harry’s cock was pretty too. And long. Longer than yours. And Harry was uncut. You loved the feel of an uncircumcised cock. The extra skin was amazing for frotting but also felt so nice inside your bum.

You got on the bed and leaned back while Harry crawled between your legs on the bed and lowered his hands to your thighs and looked up at you as he licked his pink lips, “You can fuck my mouth if you want. I know I deserve it.” His smile was devious.

He lowered his mouth to the inside of your thigh and kissed downward until he met the apex of your leg and your groin. You watched him as she took his time dragging his lips over the thatch of hair at the base of your cock and then used a hand to cradle your balls. He lowered himself down and started off with a gentle kiss to each side before licking them and wetting them as he watched you.

“Fuck…” you moaned quietly. You were well aware that Gemma was just down the hall. You didn’t want to be loud.

Harry opened his mouth and tongued at your scrotum and then he looked up at you again, “Can I pull?”

You nodded. You liked having your scrotum pulled at just a little and then the thin skin licked. Harry got to it right away. He knew what he was doing. You panted as you dropped your mouth open.

Harry’s free hand traveled down to your perineum. He pressed it gently with his thumb and moved up and down which got your heart racing. You moaned.

Harry released your scrotum and smiled up at you, “Can I lick your taint?”

You nodded again and Harry switched out the thumb he was using for his tongue and you shivered.

His nose was nudging into your balls as used his tongue to lick up the small patch of skin next to your anus. You keened and sucked in a sharp breath, then a husky pant fell from your mouth.

Harry slowly brought his hand up to your dick, wrapped his big hand around your shaft, and began yanking upward. He moved himself up and sat back before bending over to spit a gob of saliva over your tip. He smoothed it down, leaving a shiny path under his palm and then he opened his mouth as he lowered himself, licking the tip with his wet tongue and kissing your slit.

“Oh god…” you whispered in anticipation of what he was about to do.

Harry looked at you as he stroked you upward with one palm, “I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long now, Y/n. I hope you like it.”

Harry’s lips wrapped around your tip and that was it for you. You threw your head back and whimpered as he sucked you off. He didn’t go too deep. He kept one hand at your base and pumped while he sucked, licked, and moaned over your tip and a few inches of your dick underneath.

You bent your knees and lifted your hips a bit as you looked down at him, “Holy… oh god…” you kept your volume low but it was hard with your cock in Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s pupils had dilated and his mouth was wet and pink as he slowly pulled his mouth from you, “Come on. Give me my punishment. Fuck my mouth,” his voice was raspy and deep and you could feel his breath on your tip.

You laughed. He really wanted it. So you’d give it to him.

Moving Harry back, you pushed his chest and sat up to your knees, and pointed at the bed, “Lie down on your back.”

Harry moved to lay down flat on his back and watched as you straddled his chest and angled your cock downward to his lips, “Open wide.”

He wasted no time in obeying and you wasted no time in pushing your cock back into his mouth. You went slow at first. The angle was good. You liked getting your cock sucked like this but you knew how it could be a bit rough so you let him get used to it as you began to slowly get yourself deeper inside of him.

When he swallowed around your tip and you heard the first gurgle you smiled down at him but continued your thrusts, “Pinch me if you need me to stop.”

Harry shook his head and sucked around you which made you gasp with delight.

You began pushing down into him harder, hearing his gags and watching his spit drizzle down his face made you feel like you were in control. You loved how it looked having your cock fuck his pretty face.

“I used to hate you,” you groaned as you held onto the headboard, the wet sounds of his mouth being pumped into, “Always wanted to put you in your place.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed as he listened to you tell him how angry he made you, “Wanted to fucking punch you in your handsome face,” you panted continuing your plunges.

“Wanted to choke you and now I can with my cock down your throat.”

Harry moaned around your cock and you grunted with your pace. You began to vibrate, feeling your orgasm start to build fast. You watched the scene below you and Harry seemed to be enjoying it as much as you were. With one hand on the headboard and your other in his hair you pulled at his roots, “This is what you deserve for everything you put me through.”

You warned him you were coming but he was almost even more eager to take you deeper. He swallowed around your crown just as you released into his mouth. You groaned and shivered as Harry continued sucking and swallowing until you were spent and sensitive.

Harry chuckled when you finally pulled yourself out of his mouth and you looked down at him with a grin, “Fuck, Harry.”

You hadn’t expected him to take it like that. He seemed to enjoy having his throat fucked. And it was hot. You always imagined Harry would be strictly a top with his attitude but he most definitely wasn’t a top when he was gagging and drooling as you were grinding your dick into his mouth.

You collapsed onto the bed next to him with your chest rising and falling heavily. You turned your head to look at the man next to you and he had his hand around his own cock, slowly pulling at it as he watched you with droopy eyes. He hadn’t come yet but he already looked totally fucked out. Harry was gorgeous.

You rolled over to kiss him. His mouth was warm and salty. But you could tell right away how much he was dying to have you touch him so you lowered your hand and pressed your palm over him with your fingers grazing his balls and the hair that surrounded his thick cock.

“What do you want, Harry? I think I got all my anger out,” you laughed as you spoke against his lips.

Harry chuckled and you felt him nod, “I’d say you did,” Harry’s voice came out scratchy and raspy. Harry backed away from the kiss and his face was angelic with a soft smile and parted lips, “You said you like everything. Can I fuck you?”

You had come already but you wouldn’t mind feeling him inside. Perhaps you could even come again with some time. You nodded and grinned, “Whatever you want.”

Harry let out a pant and nudged the tip of his hard cock to yours and he keened with a pained look on his face. He looked down between your bodies and put his palm over his cock and the tips of his fingers around yours so they were pressed together, “Want to fuck you, stretch you open. M’gonna come so hard. You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. God…” he pressed his mouth to yours as he rutted his dick against yours slowly.

His words were sexy and his scratchy deep voice was making your insides turn. You never imagined yourself doing this with him. Well, you’d imagined what he might be like in bed, but never thought it’d actually happen.

Harry rolled over and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. He put the condom over himself and he seemed bigger and thicker than he had been when you first saw him hard. He was so ready to get his dick wet that he was a little shaky as he slid the rubber downward.

Harry looked down at you as you were still lying on your back waiting for his next move.

“I really like when it’s missionary. You can bring your legs up and I can enter you like this,” Harry kneed up to you and grabbed your ankles, pushing them up so your ass was exposed. He poured a healthy dollop of lube over your anus and you felt his fingers slipping around down there.

You liked this position too. You liked being fucked regardless but being able to see Harry’s pretty face was a bonus. Plus, you could have him stroke you while he was fucking you if you wanted.

You moaned when Harry plunged two fingers into your hole. Harry kept his eyes on yours and bit his lip as he fucked your hole a bit harder and then looked down to where his fingers were disappearing inside of you. You closed your eyes and your breathing picked up once again, heavy breaths falling from your mouth when his fingers were grazing your insides and adding that delicious pressure you loved.

“You’re so ready for me, Y/n. So pretty. Can I fuck it now?” Harry was looking at you with his cock in his hand when you opened your eyes and nodded, “Fuck me, Harry.”

Harry’s crown dipped in slowly before he pulled back and grunted a curse before going back in again and sucking in a sharp breath, “Oh fuck…” his deep voice was a bit loud and you hoped Gemma couldn’t hear. You were not into having friends hear you having sex.

Harry’s gentle pushes and pulls into and out of you were nice. You felt the burn with how wide he was but once he was thrusting into you and reaching deep it was good. Really good. Your prostate was being pressed into and sent zips of electricity through your veins.

Harry kept hold of your knees as he plunged deep into you, his breathing was ragged and he was quivering above you, “Y/n… oh my god… you feel so good… looks so good” he whispered as he kept his eyes on the spot his cock was connected with your ass.

You pulled at your thighs and held your legs open as you lifted your neck to watch him fucking you. His abs were flexing and his thighs were holding him steady in a healthy rhythm.

You could only moan quietly and gasp when he dipped in deep. Words weren’t finding you. The bed started to gently rock as Harry bucked into you. He reached down and wrapped his hand around your dick and you whimpered loudly, unable to control it. It felt so good to have your ass fucked and your dick stroked at the same time.

Your mouth dropped open wide at the feeling of letting Harry control everything. You didn’t think you could come again but if he kept up his strokes and thrusts like he was you would definitely be spurting all over your tummy.

“Fuck, Y/n. I’m gonna need more of this with you. Shit, you’re so tight. So hot…” Harry gasped his words as his strong thighs held himself up and over you. He hastened his pace and his pink lips were parted with small grunts and bursts of groans.

Harry placed his palms down on the mattress and continued fucking into you as you reached down to put your hand around your cock. You knew you could come again. Harry was doing everything right and when he’d given a little attention to your dick while he was fucking you it brought your prick back to life. You were hard and ready again.

“Yes…” you moaned as your body was being rocked with Harry’s plunges. Harry’s chest got more flushed the closer he got to the finish line and he dropped down to bring his lips over yours.

You whined into his mouth and the bit of electricity that you’d felt coursing through your body turned into a light and butterflies. Harry’s lips were wet and soft on yours and you were feeling something more than just being fucked. It was making your heart flutter with something new.

You both whined in breaths as you continued kissing and your hand stayed wrapped around your dick as Harry pushed into you. You could feel him shaking and you began to tremble when your own orgasm was coming so close.

“Can you come, Y/n? Come for me?” Harry grunted his words and kept his lips on yours and you nodded, “Yes, fuck I’m gonna come again Harry…” your voice was involuntarily raised up an octave as you were so out of it with lust and warmth.

Harry’s lips paused over yours as his long strokes into you were setting your groin on fire and he suddenly gasped and whimpered, “I’m coming…” he stopped his thrusts and groaned as you spurted into your hand and a little on your chest.

The bed was still finally as you both basked in your orgasms, pumping come out from your dick and Harry’s into his condom. Heavy breaths and small grunts were all that could be heard.

Harry lowered himself again, his lips finding yours and your feet hit the mattress as you wrapped your arms around Harry’s back. He stayed inside of you for just a bit longer before he finally began to move back and slip out. You both sucked in a sharp breath at the feel and laughed at the state you were both in.

After wiping up in the bathroom and getting water Harry suggested something you hadn’t expected, “Stay the night. It’s late.”

You smiled and looked at the clock. 3 am. That was pretty late. You raised your eyebrows and shrugged, “Guess I could stay.”

Harry locked his bedroom door and turned back to you, “Oh you’re definitely staying. We have a lot to make up for. Don’t you think?” He spoke as he stepped right in front of you, and smoothed a hand up your chest.

You laughed, “I’m kind of done for the night. I came twice.”

Harry raised his brows, “I’m good. I know. We can sleep a little. But I’m not done with you,” he kissed you, his hand finding the back of your head.

This had your heart pattering and dancing in your chest again. You knew Harry was different. Something in him changed just a little bit with Gemma’s accident and even though he was still a bit cocky and mouthy, he was nicer. He wasn’t just an asshole anymore.

You parted from the kiss, “What did you have in mind?”

Harry pulled you to the bed and motioned for you to lie down, “Let’s get some rest and then see where the day takes us when we wake up.”

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