#harrystylesoneshot

She stops recording and glances at you. “You look sad.”

“I am not sad.”

“You are aggressively neutral. Which is worse.”

You pull at the sleeve of your sweater. “It’s been three weeks.”

“Three weeks since the breakup,” she says, hopping onto the counter across from you. “And you are still defending a man who thought oat milk was a personality.”

You huff out a small laugh despite yourself. “He was not that bad.”

“He was that boring.”

The thing about Camille is that she could have said I told you so months ago. She saw the cracks before you did. Instead she let you figure it out, and now she is careful with you, even when she’s teasing.

“You need a distraction,” she says, softer now.

“I have work.”

“You write about city council meetings.”

“I like writing about city council meetings.”

“I know you do,” she says quickly. “I’m not diminishing your civic passion. I’m saying you deserve something that makes your stomach flip in a good way.”

You give her a look. “That sounds dangerous.”

She grins and reaches for her phone. “It is.”

You already know that expression. It’s the one she gets right before she convinces you to do something you swore you wouldn’t.

“Camille.”

“Raya.”

You laugh immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is for models and DJs and men who own boats. I am a writer for an online newspaper. I am painfully normal.”

She slides off the counter and comes to stand in front of you, arms crossed. “First of all, you are not painfully normal. You are emotionally literate and hot. That’s a rare combination. Second, I have an invite code.”

“How do you just have an invite code?”

She shrugs. “It circulates.”

“That is not an answer.”

“One of the stylists I worked with last month had extras. Influencer privilege. It resets every so often.”

You stare at her. “Your life sounds fake.”

“And yet here I am, using it for good.”

She types something quickly and your phone buzzes in your hand.

“Camille.”

“Just download it. You don’t have to use it. Think of it as exposure therapy.”

“I do not need exposure therapy. I need to stop wanting to text my ex.”

“Exactly,” she says, like you just proved her point. “This is you moving forward without actually moving forward. Low stakes. No expectations.”

You look down at the string of letters and numbers on your screen. A code. A tiny door you did not ask for.

“You’re going to make fun of every man on there with me, aren’t you.”

“Respectfully,” she says. “Yes.”

You slide off the counter and open the app store before you can overthink it. Camille watches like she’s overseeing a soft launch.

When the app opens and asks for photos, you hesitate.

“Use the one from Emma’s birthday,” she says immediately.

“I look shiny.”

“You look dewy. Big difference.”

You scroll anyway, choosing three that feel honest. You laughing mid sentence. You walking down a street. You at your desk with coffee and a stack of papers.

It asks for your job.

You type: Writer, online newspaper. You pause, then add: Painfully normal.

Camille leans over your shoulder and smiles. “That’s charming.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s self aware. People love self aware.”

“I do not want people loving anything. I want them mildly intrigued at best.”

She nudges you. “You say that now.”

You finish setting it up. The profile exists. A version of you sitting in a digital room full of strangers.

“Now what,” you ask.

“Now nothing,” she says. “Close it. Let it breathe. You don’t have to dive in tonight.”

You study her for a second. “You’re being surprisingly chill about this.”

She softens. “I’m not trying to throw you into chaos. I just don’t want you shrinking.”

The words land heavier than the joke did.

You swallow and nod once. “Okay.”

That night, the app sits on your home screen. Small. Unassuming. You open it once, just to look. Profiles slide past. People with glossy photos and inside jokes in their bios. It feels like a room where everyone already knows each other.

You close it. You are not ready. The next day you don’t open it at all. Or the day after that. But you don’t delete it either. You don’t open the app again.

Not when you’re bored on the train. Not when you’re half tempted to text your ex and need a distraction. It just sits there, tucked between your news app and your notes, quietly existing.

A week passes.

Then Camille texts: Girls night. Emergency vibes. Bring pajamas.

You show up at her apartment with a tote bag and low expectations. She’s already in matching satin shorts she claims were gifted but absolutely bought herself. There’s a charcuterie board that looks suspiciously sponsored but isn’t, and a bottle of wine breathing on the counter.

“You look alive,” she says approvingly as you kick off your shoes.

“I showered.”

“Growth.”

You roll your eyes and accept the glass she hands you. The apartment smells like whatever expensive candle she’s currently pretending not to be emotionally attached to. Music plays softly in the background. It feels easy.

You talk about work first. You tell her about a piece you’re drafting and how your editor keeps asking for more bite. She tells you about a brand dinner where a micro celebrity tried to explain crypto to her for twenty minutes.

By the second glass of wine, you feel looser. Not reckless. Just less tight in your chest.

Camille studies you from across the couch. “Did you delete it?”

You know exactly what she means.

“No.”

Her eyes light up. “So you kept it.”

“That does not mean anything.”

“It means you’re curious.”

“It means I forgot.”

She gives you a look that says she does not believe you for a second.

“Open it.”

“Camille.”

“Open it. We’re in a safe environment. I will curate.”

“You are the least neutral curator alive.”

“Correct.”

You hesitate, then reach for your phone. The app opens faster than you expect, like it’s been waiting.

Profiles start sliding past. A director in Berlin. A DJ in Miami. A guy whose bio is just a single black square emoji.

Camille narrates like it’s a sport.

“Absolutely not.”

“He looks like he says ‘let’s circle back.’”

“Oh he owns a boat. You were right about the boats.”

You laugh more than you have in days. It feels harmless. Distant. These are just faces on a screen.

You swipe left. Left. Left. Then you pause.

Camille notices immediately. “What.”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

You turn the phone toward her.

The first photo is candid. Slightly blurry. Sunglasses. A half smile that feels familiar in a way your brain takes a second to process. The second is him on what looks like a boat, wind pushing his hair back. The third is simple. Black shirt. Direct eye contact with the camera.

There’s no over the top bio. Just his name. Harry. A few understated details. A song playing in the background of the profile that you recognize immediately.

Your stomach drops in a way that has nothing to do with wine.

Camille blinks. Then blinks again. “Is that…”

“Yes.”

She grabs your wrist. “Oh my god.”

“It’s fake.”

“It does not look fake.”

“It’s absolutely fake.”

The photos don’t look like press shots. They look like someone handed a friend a phone. The prompts are understated. Almost boring. Which somehow makes it worse.

Camille leans closer to the screen. “Location?”

You glance at the top. It lists New York, but there’s a small note about frequent travel.

Your heart is beating faster now, and you hate that it is.

“This is stupid,” you say, more to yourself than to her.

“Swipe right.”

“No.”

“Why not.”

“Because what if it matches.”

“That is the point of the app.”

“Camille.”

She softens, just slightly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But if you’re going to tell this story one day, you’re going to wish you swiped right.”

You stare at the screen. At the small, digital version of a man you have only ever seen on stages and magazine covers. It feels ridiculous. Unreal. He is just another profile. Just another person in a room full of people.

You swallow.

“This is insane.”

“I know,” she whispers, grinning.

You swipe right.

The screen barely has time to settle before it flashes.

It’s a match.

You and Camille freeze at the exact same time, staring at the glowing words like they might rearrange themselves into something more reasonable.

“No,” you say immediately.

Camille grabs your arm. “No way.”

The phone is still in your hand. Still warm. Still real.

You both scream. It’s not cute. It’s not controlled. It’s loud and sharp and slightly panicked. Camille knocks over her wine glass in the process and you fling the phone onto the couch like it just burned you.

“Oh my god,” she says, half laughing, half hyperventilating.

“This is not funny,” you say, backing away from the couch like the phone might start speaking.

“You matched with him.”

“It’s fake.”

“It literally says matched.”

“That does not mean anything. People hack things.”

She lunges for the phone. You lunge too. You both miss and it slides off the couch and lands face down on the rug.

You stare at it.

“Pick it up,” she whispers.

“You pick it up.”

“It’s your life.”

“It was your code.”

She laughs in this nervous, stressed out way that makes everything feel ten times more unhinged. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. This is fine. You’re fine.”

“I am not fine.”

She scoops up the phone and flips it over. Still there. His name at the top of the screen. The little notification bubble waiting.

“You have to message him,” she says.

You actually yell. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not. I am not messaging him.”

“You cannot match with Harry Styles and then just sit there.”

“I can and I will.”

She shoves the phone toward you. “Say hi.”

“I don’t know how to say hi to that.”

“You say hi like you would to anyone else.”

“That is objectively untrue.”

You grab the phone from her and clutch it to your chest like you’re protecting it from her.

“What if it’s not him,” you say quickly. “What if it’s someone pretending to be him and I say something normal and they screenshot it and it’s humiliating.”

Camille squints at the profile again. “The photos look real. The prompts look real. It’s understated in a way that feels real.”

“That is not comforting.”

She tilts her head. “Do you want him to message first?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t control that.”

You glance down at the screen like it might betray you at any second. “This was supposed to be funny.”

“It is funny.”

“It is not funny. It’s deeply stressful.”

She grins despite herself. “You are glowing right now.”

“I am panicking.”

“Same,” she says brightly.

Your thumb hovers over the message bar. Blank. Waiting.

“Okay,” Camille says, suddenly serious. “If you don’t message him, you’re going to think about it all week. If you do message him, worst case scenario he doesn’t respond and we move on.”

“And best case.”

She smiles slowly. “We get a story.”

You look at the phone. At his name. At the tiny space where words are supposed to go.

You feel ridiculous. You feel curious. You feel a small flicker of something that does not feel like your ex.

“I hate you,” you tell her.

“I know,” she says sweetly.

Your thumb taps the keyboard. Then you panic and throw the phone back onto the couch again.

“No. I can’t.”

Camille bursts out laughing and dives for it before you can. “You are impossible.”

“Do not send anything,” you warn, scrambling after her.

“I won’t. I promise. I’m just looking.”

You both collapse onto the couch, shoulders pressed together, staring at the screen like it’s a live wire.

The message bar is still empty. Waiting. You stare at the blinking cursor like it’s personally judging you.

Camille is practically vibrating next to you.

“Okay,” she says carefully, like she’s negotiating with a wild animal. “Give me the phone.”

“No.”

“You are spiraling.”

“I am thinking.”

“You have been thinking for ten full minutes.”

You glance at the clock. She’s right. It has been ten full minutes of you typing something, deleting it, typing something else, deleting that too.

“What if I say something weird,” you say.

“You won’t.”

“What if I black out and accidentally propose.”

She snorts. “Then at least it would be memorable.”

You press your lips together and look back down at his name. It still feels surreal. Too big for the tiny screen.

“Okay,” you say slowly. “You can send it.”

Her eyes widen. “Really.”

“Yes. But nothing embarrassing. Nothing flirty. Nothing that sounds like I’ve ever listened to music in my life.”

She grabs the phone gently, like it might shatter. “Relax.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You watch her thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your heart is pounding again, which is ridiculous. This is a dating app. People message each other every day. This is normal.

Painfully normal, you remind yourself.

“Just say hi,” you whisper.

“That’s boring.”

“Boring is safe.”

She thinks for a second, then starts typing. You crane your neck to see.

Hi. I was told this app was for models and DJs and men who own boats, so I’m slightly confused.

You stare at it.

“That’s actually good,” you admit quietly.

“I know.”

“It sounds like me.”

“Because I am a genius.”

She looks at you one more time. “Last chance.”

You take a breath. The worst that happens is nothing. The worst that happens is it is him and he doesn’t respond. The worst that happens is you wake up tomorrow and your life is exactly the same as it was this morning.

“Send it,” you say.

She taps the screen. The message flies off into the void. You both immediately scream again and she drops the phone onto your lap this time.

“It’s done,” she says, laughing in that stressed out way that makes everything feel unreal. “You did it.”

“I didn’t do it. You did it.”

“You approved it.”

You stare at the chat. The message sits there, small and harmless looking. Sent. Now you wait.

Camille leans her head against your shoulder. “See. That wasn’t so bad.”

You swallow. “It was terrible.”

She smiles. “Admit it. You’re curious.”

You are.

There isn’t an immediate response. Of course there isn’t.

You and Camille stare at the screen for a full minute like something dramatic is supposed to happen. It doesn’t. The chat just sits there with your message hanging in polite, digital silence.

Camille eventually clears her throat. “Well. He’s busy.”

“Right,” you say quickly. “He’s… him.”

“He could be in a studio. Or asleep. Or on a boat.”

“Stop mentioning boats.”

She laughs, but after another minute of nothing, the intensity fizzles. The wine settles. The night moves on. You order takeout. You watch something mindless. You do not check the app again before you fall asleep on her couch.

The next morning, you half expect a notification. There isn’t one. And weirdly, that makes it easier.

Life resumes.

You go to work. You draft headlines. You sit in meetings where someone says the phrase content vertical without irony. The Raya message drifts to the back of your mind, filed somewhere between embarrassing and funny.

Every few days, Camille checks in.

“Any movement?”

“No.”

“Are you checking?”

“Not obsessively.”

“That is not what I asked.”

You roll your eyes at her texts and keep walking down the street, coffee in hand. It becomes a bit. A running joke. The time you matched with Harry Styles and nothing happened.

You stop opening the app altogether. You don’t want to see the unchanged chat. It feels cleaner to leave it unopened than to confirm the silence.

A week passes. Then another.

The sharpness of it dulls. You stop imagining what you would say if he responded. You stop replaying the message in your head. It becomes a story you’ll tell someday. Remember when.

One evening, you’re walking up the stairs to your apartment, juggling your tote bag and your keys. It’s been a long day. You stayed late finishing a piece and your brain feels like static. All you want is a shower and something easy to eat.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

You don’t even look at the screen at first. You assume it’s Camille. She tends to text around this time, usually something chaotic like I have a new theory about men.

You push your door open with your shoulder and glance down casually.

It’s not iMessage blue.

It’s the Raya icon.

Your heart drops so fast you actually miss the doorway and bump your hip against the frame.

You stare at the notification. Harry sent you a message.

For a second, you just stand there in your dim apartment hallway, door half open behind you, keys still in your hand.

You genuinely consider not opening it. Preserving the possibility instead of facing whatever is actually there.

Your phone buzzes again. Another message.Your throat goes dry.

You step inside slowly and close the door with your foot, like you’re trying not to disturb something fragile. The apartment is quiet. The only sound is your own breathing, suddenly louder than it should be.

You unlock your phone.

Your thumb hovers over the app.

You think, absurdly, I thought this was Camille.

It isn’t.

It’s him.

You open it before you can talk yourself out of it.

The chat loads.

Your message is still there at the top, slightly smug now that it has company.

Below it:

I don’t own a boat. Feels important to clarify.

You stare at it.

Then the second message.

But I am slightly offended I got lumped in with DJs.

You let out a sound that is half laugh, half something close to hysteria.

It’s him. It has to be him. The tone is dry. Understated. Not trying too hard. Not grand.

You drop your bag on the floor without meaning to.

Your brain immediately starts overanalyzing. How long ago did he send this. You check.

Three minutes.

Three.

He is currently on the app.

Your heart begins beating in a way that feels wildly disproportionate to a dating app notification.

You pace once across your living room. Then back.

You consider calling Camille. You absolutely cannot call Camille. She will scream and make this worse.

You look back at the messages.

There are no emojis. No exclamation points. Just clean, simple sentences.

You sit down on the edge of your couch and type.

I appreciate the clarification.

It feels neutral. Slightly amused. Safe.

You hesitate for only a second this time before hitting send.

The message delivers.

You immediately lock your phone and toss it onto the couch like distance will regulate your nervous system.

It buzzes.

You freeze.

You turn slowly and pick it up.

That was faster than I expected. I thought you might have forgotten about this place.

Your stomach flips.

You type back before you can overthink it.

I did. Briefly.

Three dots appear almost instantly.

Fair. I disappear for weeks at a time. Occupational hazard.

You swallow. Occupational hazard. He’s referencing it without naming it. Casual.

You lean back into your couch now, letting yourself settle into it.

Hazard implies danger. Should I be concerned.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.

Only if you’re afraid of slightly inconsistent texting habits.

You actually smile.

That feels honest. Not polished. Not trying to charm.

You decide to push, just slightly.

And what exactly is the occupation that causes that.

You stare at the screen after sending it. It’s a normal question. Completely normal.

The three dots take longer this time.

Then:

I sing sometimes.

You laugh out loud in your empty apartment.

Sometimes.

You rest your head back against the couch and type:

Ah. Casual.

A pause.

Then:

And you’re painfully normal, if I remember correctly.

Your cheeks warm.

Writer. Online newspaper. I cover city council meetings sometimes. No boats involved.

Three dots.

That sounds more interesting than boats.

You blink at the screen.

You weren’t expecting that.

Before you can respond, another message appears.

How did you end up on this app if you’re so painfully normal.

There’s no judgment in it. It reads curious. Respectful.

You hesitate for a second, then decide honesty is easier than crafting something cool.

A friend passed along an invite code. She said it would be character building.

You add, after a beat:

I haven’t decided if she was right.

The typing bubble appears again.

I respect a friend with connections. Sounds efficient.

You smile at that.

Your apartment feels different now. Lighter somehow. Charged in a quiet way.

It stays small. Contained. Two people in a digital room, testing the edges.

And for the first time in weeks, your chest feels full of something that isn’t grief.

It’s curiosity.

And it feels dangerously close to excitement.

You stare at the screen for a second longer than necessary, letting the fact that this is happening settle somewhere in your chest.

You decide to keep it light.

She would be thrilled to hear that. She considers herself very well connected.

The typing bubble appears almost immediately.

Sounds intimidating. Should I be worried about her vetting process.

You smile.

She’d absolutely run a background check if she could.

That feels fair.

The ease of it surprises you. There’s no heavy flirting. No performance. Just conversation.

Another message appears.

So. Writer for an online newspaper.

You shift on the couch, tucking one leg under you.

Yes. Very glamorous.

What do you write about.

You consider giving him the short version. Instead, you answer properly.

Local things. City council meetings when they matter. Housing issues. Small business stories. Restaurant openings. The kind of pieces people actually click on at eight in the morning while they’re drinking coffee.

You pause, then add:

Sometimes it’s more human. I interviewed a man last month who’s been feeding the same stray cat outside a laundromat for nine years. That one did surprisingly well.

The typing bubble appears quickly.

That sounds more interesting than most things I’ve read today.

You blink at the screen.

It’s not glamorous. But it’s real.

A moment passes.

Real is better.

You feel that one land somewhere you weren’t expecting.

Then:

What got you into it.

It isn’t surface level. He keeps asking follow ups like he actually wants to know.

You think about it before answering.

I like paying attention to things that would get ignored otherwise. Small decisions. Small people. The stuff that doesn’t trend but still matters.

You hover over the screen, suddenly aware you might be revealing more than you planned to.

You send it anyway.

The typing bubble lingers.

That doesn’t sound painfully normal to me.

Your cheeks warm.

You’ve exchanged maybe fifteen messages with me. That’s not a thorough character study.

I work well with limited data.

You laugh under your breath.

You decide to pivot.

And you. You “sing sometimes.” Is that what you put on tax forms.

A beat.

Depends who’s asking.

I’m asking.

There’s a slightly longer pause this time.

I travel a lot. I write songs. I spend more time in airports than I’d like.

It’s understated. No résumé. No ego.

Then another message appears.

I’ve been spending a lot of time in Italy lately. I’m there now.

You sit up a little straighter.

Oh.

Work. I tend to stay longer than planned.

You picture it without meaning to. Warmer air. Different language. A life that moves at a different speed.

That sounds better than New York in February.

It’s quieter. Less arguing outside the window.

You smile.

On impulse, you switch languages.

Quindi ora sei ufficialmente italiano? (So are you officially Italian now?)

You immediately wonder if that was too much.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.

Capisco un po’. Not enough to get in trouble. (I understand a little.)

Your eyebrows lift.

That’s suspiciously vague.

It’s strategic.

You laugh.

How much is “un po’.” (“A little.”)

A beat.

Enough to order dinner. Not enough to win an argument.

You shake your head, smiling into your phone, alone in your apartment but suddenly not feeling it quite as much.

You stare at the last message for a while.

Enough to order dinner. Not enough to win an argument.

You type a response. Delete it. Type another. Delete that too.

You don’t want to overextend it. You don’t want to drag the conversation into the early morning just because you can. He said it was late there. You can feel the natural pause settling in.

So you send one last thing.

That feels like the correct level of fluency.

The message delivers.

You lock your phone before he can respond.

Not in a dramatic way. Just deliberately. You don’t want to sit there watching the typing bubble. You don’t want to turn this into something frantic.

You set your phone on the coffee table and lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Your apartment is quiet again.

It feels different though. Charged. Like the air shifted a few degrees.

You tell yourself you’re being normal. You had a conversation. That’s it. People have conversations every day.

Still.

After a minute, you reach for your phone again.

You don’t open the chat.

You open his profile.

The first photo loads. Slightly blurry. Sunglasses pushed up into his hair. A half smile that looks unguarded. The kind of picture that feels like it was taken by someone standing too close, not a press photographer.

You swipe.

The boat photo. Wind in his hair. Sun on his face. He looks relaxed in a way that feels almost private.

You swipe again.

The black shirt. Direct eye contact with the camera. No exaggerated expression. Just him.

You exhale slowly.

He’s beautiful.

Not in a distant, untouchable way. In a human way. In a way that feels almost unfair when it’s paired with the quiet, thoughtful messages you just read.

You zoom in slightly before you can stop yourself, studying details you would absolutely make fun of Camille for noticing. The curve of his mouth. The line of his jaw. The softness in his eyes that doesn’t fully translate on stage but shows up here.

Your stomach flips again.

You close the app.

Open it again.

Just to look one more time.

You’re not desperate. You’re curious. There’s a difference, you tell yourself.

You set your phone down for good this time and stand up, pacing once across your living room.

This is ridiculous, you think.

You give it a few days.

Not on purpose at first. Just life moving the way it does. Work piles up. Your editor sends back notes. You spend an entire afternoon interviewing a bakery owner who insists on telling you her full life story before answering a single question.

You do not open the app.

You think about it, though.

In line for coffee. On the train. When your phone buzzes and your heart does something irrational before you check the notification and it’s just a news alert.

You tell yourself this is healthy. Measured. You are not spiraling. You are not glued to a screen waiting for a typing bubble.

You are taking it slow.

By day three, you’ve convinced yourself that leaving space makes you mysterious.

By day four, you realize you are just nervous.

Camille texts you on Thursday night.

Are you alive.

You stare at the message.

Yes.

That’s it? she replies. Suspicious.

You hesitate, then type:

He messaged.

There are three dots immediately.

WHAT.

You call her before she can send anything else because you know she will escalate.

She answers on the first ring.

“You cannot just text ‘he messaged’ and leave it there,” she says, already breathless.

“It was normal,” you say quickly. “Very normal. Calm. Human.”

“Define human.”

“We talked about work. Italy came up.”

“Italy,” she repeats, like it’s a plot twist in a show she’s invested in.

“He’s there.”

“I hate that.”

“I know.”

She goes quiet for a second. “So what’s the problem.”

“There isn’t one.”

“Then why do you sound like there is.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, twisting the hem of your shirt around your fingers.

“I just… I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Ruin what.”

“I don’t know. The tone. The ease.”

Camille softens.

“You’re allowed to enjoy something without pre ruining it.”

“I’m not pre ruining it.”

“You’re rationing it,” she says gently.

You look at the floor.

She’s not wrong.

“I haven’t opened the app in a few days,” you admit.

“On purpose?”

“Kind of.”

“Why.”

You search for the right words.

“Because if I answer too fast, it feels like I care too much. And if I answer too slow, it feels like I’m playing a game. I don’t want to play a game.”

Camille exhales.

“You are overthinking this.”

“I know.”

“He is a man. On a dating app. You are a woman. On a dating app. You are allowed to respond when you want to respond.”

“It’s different.”

“Because he’s famous.”

You don’t answer.

She continues, softer now.

“Is he talking to you like he’s famous.”

“No.”

“Is he acting like you should be impressed.”

“No.”

“Then stop assigning weight to it.”

You lean back onto your bed and stare at the ceiling.

“I’ve just been taking it slow,” you say finally.

“Slow is fine,” she replies. “Slow is sexy. Slow is mysterious. Slow is emotionally regulated. But slow is not avoidance.”

You laugh quietly.

“Which one am I.”

“A little of both,” she says.

You glance at your phone on your nightstand.

It hasn’t buzzed.

But you know the conversation is still there. Waiting. Not in a demanding way. Just existing.

You shift on your bed, tucking the phone tighter between your shoulder and your ear so you can free up one hand.

“Don’t,” Camille says immediately.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to. I can hear it.”

You roll your eyes even though she can’t see you. “I’m just looking.”

“You are absolutely about to open the app.”

You don’t deny it this time. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second, switch to speaker, and open Raya.

The screen loads.

Your thumb hesitates before you tap the chat.

Nothing new.

The last message is still there. Calm. Unmoved. No typing bubble. No fresh notification.

You stare at it longer than you should.

“Well?” Camille asks through the speaker.

“Nothing.”

There’s a small pause.

“That’s okay,” you add quickly. “He’s busy.”

Camille hums in a way that says she’s watching you spiral from miles away.

“Yeah,” she says. “He probably is.”

You exit the chat but don’t close the app right away. You linger on his profile picture at the top of the screen like it might offer some kind of reassurance.

“He said he disappears for weeks sometimes,” you say, trying to sound unaffected. “Occupational hazard.”

“You remember the exact phrasing,” she points out.

“Stop.”

You finally lock your phone and set it on your nightstand.

“I don’t want to be the girl who waits around,” you admit.

“You checked once,” she says calmly. “While actively talking to me.”

“That still counts.”

“It counts as being human.”

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” you say again, softer this time. “He’s in Italy. It’s late there. He probably has a life.”

Camille laughs gently. “I hope so.”

You smile despite yourself.

“It was one conversation,” you continue. “A good one. But still.”

“And if that’s all it is, that’s still nice,” she says.

The week stretches longer than you expect.

Not in a dramatic way. Just quietly.

You stop checking every day. Then you stop checking at all. Work fills the space. You finish the bakery piece. You sit through a zoning meeting that runs forty minutes past what it should. You have dinner with Camille where neither of you says his name out loud.

It settles into something that almost feels finished.

You tell yourself that was nice. A good conversation. A small reminder that the world is bigger than one breakup.

You don’t delete the app.

You just let it exist.

It’s the following Tuesday when it happens.

You’re on the train, wedged between a woman reading a thriller and a man aggressively eating almonds out of a plastic bag. You’re half listening to a podcast, half staring at nothing.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

You glance down automatically.

Raya.

Your stomach drops so fast you actually miss your stop announcement.

You stare at the notification without opening it.

Harry sent you a message.

The train keeps moving. Someone coughs. The world continues like this is not a seismic event.

You open it.

The chat loads.

The last message is still yours. Then below it, new.

Sorry. I disappeared.

Your throat tightens.

Another message comes through.

You were right about the argument thing. I lost one in Italian. Very humbling experience.

You let out a soft, startled laugh on the train, earning a brief look from the almond man.

It’s been a week.

A full week.

And yet the tone is exactly the same. Dry. Casual. Like no time has passed.

You type slowly, deliberately.

That does sound humbling.

You stare at it.

Then add:

I assumed you were busy.

The typing bubble appears almost immediately.

I was.

A pause.

Didn’t mean to vanish.

There’s something in that. Not defensive. Not overly apologetic. Just acknowledging.

You lean back against the train pole, trying to keep your expression neutral.

Occupational hazard, you write.

Three dots.

Exactly.

Another pause.

How’s New York.

You smile to yourself.

The fact that he remembers where you are.

Still cold. Still loud. No progress on the arguing neighbors.

The typing bubble.

I admire their commitment.

You laugh softly.

The train lurches and you grab the pole with your free hand, heart still beating faster than it needs

The train rattles forward and you stay where you are, letting two stops pass without even thinking about it.

Your phone buzzes again.

Did you write anything interesting this week.

You blink at the screen.

It’s such a simple question. And yet it doesn’t feel like filler.

You shift your weight and type carefully.

I wrote about a bakery that almost closed because of a rent increase. The neighborhood showed up for them. It worked.

There’s a pause.

Then:

That’s a good story.

You smile.

It felt like one.

Another message appears before you can overanalyze.

Do you ever want to write something bigger.

You hesitate.

Bigger how.

More glamorous. More visible. Less local.

You decide not to shrink.

Sometimes. But I like knowing exactly who I’m writing for. It feels less abstract.

The typing bubble lingers.

That makes sense.

Then:

Abstract gets lonely.

That lingers quietly.

You swallow.

The train announces the next stop. Yours. You step off, weaving through people while still holding your phone low against your chest.

Lonely in what way, you type as you climb the stairs to street level.

A longer pause this time.

You reach the sidewalk just as the reply comes through.

You play to a lot of people. It doesn’t mean they know you.

Your steps slow.

The city noise rushes around you. Taxis. Conversations. Wind cutting down the block.

You type carefully.

Do you want them to?

Three dots.

Disappear.

Reappear.

Not all of them.

There’s something steady in that answer. Not self pitying. Not dramatic.

You walk toward your apartment, pulse still elevated.

Selective, you write.

Almost instantly:

Exactly.

You smile.

There’s a rhythm now. A comfort.

Another message comes through.

What are you doing right now.

You glance around at the sidewalk, at the guy walking a dog in a tiny sweater.

Walking home. It’s disgustingly cold.

Italy would like to offer an alternative.

You laugh.

That feels like a marketing pitch.

It is.

You shake your head.

What are you doing?

A beat.

On a terrace. It’s late. I should be inside.

You can almost see it without trying. Warm air. Quiet. Different sky.

And yet, you type.

And yet I’m not.

There’s a softness to that.

You unlock your apartment door and step inside, shutting out the noise of the street.

Why not, you ask.

The typing bubble appears almost immediately this time.

Because I’m enjoying this conversation.

Your breath catches just slightly.

You sit down on the edge of your couch again, like your body instinctively knows you need to brace for impact.

You stare at the screen.

Then, slowly:

Me too.

There’s no immediate response.

Just the quiet hum of your apartment and the faint echo of traffic outside.

Then:

Good.

It continues like that.

Not intense. Not dramatic. Just steady.

A few messages in the morning. Sometimes late at night. Sometimes nothing for a full day, then a casual reappearance like no time has passed.

You fall into a rhythm without meaning to.

How’s the bakery.

Thriving. The power of carbs.

Impressive.

—————

How’s Italy.

Still warm. Still confusing me grammatically.

Have you won an argument yet.

Absolutely not.

—————

What are you writing today?

Housing piece. Slightly less charming than stray cats.

You make it sound charming.

—————

Some days it’s just:

Morning.

Morning.

Or:

You alive?

Barely.

It never tips into too much.

He disappears occasionally. Reappears with something small and thoughtful.

Heard a song today that felt like something you’d write about.

Saw a café that would make a good scene in an article.

You don’t ask for proof. You don’t demand consistency. You just let it exist.

Camille notices the shift before you say anything.

“You’re calmer,” she observes one night over dinner.

“Am I.”

“Yes. You’re not spiraling. You’re just… talking.”

That’s exactly it.

You’re just talking. Having fun even.

No declarations. No flirting that feels forced. Just pieces of each other exchanged in manageable amounts.

He tells you about long studio days without naming locations. You tell him about a zoning vote that got unexpectedly heated. He sends a photo once, unprompted. A blurry shot of a street at night. Warm lights. Stone buildings.

It’s quieter than New York, he writes.

You send back a photo of your street. Snow piled against the curb. A bodega glowing under fluorescent light.

It’s louder, you reply.

The time difference becomes familiar. You start to recognize when he’s likely awake. He learns your routine too.

You’re usually on the train around now, he texts one morning.

You pause at that.

Observant.

Limited data, he replies.

You smile.

It’s been three weeks.

Three weeks of casual conversation. Of checking the app without panic. Of feeling something build slowly instead of crashing all at once.

There are no grand gestures.

Just consistency.

It’s a random Wednesday afternoon when it shifts.

You’re at your desk, halfway through rewriting a paragraph for the third time, when your phone buzzes.

You glance down automatically.

Raya.

You open it without thinking now. No dramatic pause. No pacing.

I’m coming back to the States for a bit.

Your fingers still over the keyboard.

You stare at the message for a second.

Then:

Oh?

The typing bubble appears quickly.

Yeah. A few weeks.

Your heart picks up, just slightly.

Where.

A pause. Not long. Just long enough for you to become aware of your own breathing.

Los Angeles.

You lean back in your chair.

Of course.

Work? you type.

Promo. New album coming out. Record meetings. The usual chaos.

You smile at the understatement.

That sounds mildly busy.

It’ll be fine, he replies. Just loud.

You glance around your small office. Your muted computer screen. The hum of fluorescent lights.

You thrive in loud, you write.

There’s a pause.

Sometimes, he replies. Sometimes it’s just noise.

You sit with that for a second.

Then:

When are you back.

Next week.

Your stomach flips. You hate that it does.

Next week feels close. Close in a way Italy never did.

You try to sound casual.

That’s soon.

Yeah.

Another pause.

Will you be in New York at all, you ask before you can talk yourself out of it.

There’s a slightly longer beat this time.

Possibly. Not sure yet. Schedules are still moving around.

You nod to yourself like that makes it less vague.

Fair.

The typing bubble appears again.

Would you want to know if I am?

Your breath catches.

You read it twice.

It’s not a grand gesture. Not an invitation. Just a question.

But it feels like one.

You swallow and type carefully.

I think I would.

There’s no immediate response.

Just the faint hum of your office and your own pulse in your ears.

Then:

Okay.

Life keeps moving.

He flies back to the States and the day he lands your phone buzzes mid afternoon.

Made it. LA is aggressively sunny.

You smile at your desk.

Welcome back to chaos.

A photo comes through. Blurry palm trees from the window of a car. Another of what looks like a studio. Cables. A mic stand. Nothing flashy.

Proof of life, he writes.

You send one back without overthinking it. Your laptop open. Notes scattered across your desk. A coffee cup with lipstick on the rim.

Proof of deadlines.

He replies almost instantly.

Yours looks more organized than mine.

That’s a generous interpretation.

The weeks in LA settle into the same rhythm you built before. Messages between meetings. Late night replies when he’s done for the day.

Long one today, he texts one evening.

Good long or exhausting long.

A bit of both.

He sends a photo of a sunset over the hills. The sky pink and unreal.

You send back a photo of your street in the rain. Reflections in the pavement. A taxi splashing through a puddle.

Still louder, you caption it.

Still warmer here, he replies.

It feels steady. Not performative. Just two lives running parallel with small windows into each other.

You don’t talk about meeting. Not directly. It floats unspoken between you.

Until one night.

It’s late afternoon. You’re already in bed, half asleep, when your phone buzzes on your nightstand.

Raya.

You squint at the screen.

You up.

You blink, suddenly awake.

Unfortunately yes.

The typing bubble appears immediately.

I’m in New York.

You sit up in bed so fast you almost knock your lamp over.

What.

Another message.

One night. Early meetings tomorrow. Flying back out after.

Your heart is pounding now. Loud in the quiet of your apartment.

That’s… random.

Very.

You stare at the screen, trying to slow your breathing.

Where in the city, you type.

A pause.

Midtown. Hotel near the park.

Of course.

You swallow.

The distance between Italy and New York felt theoretical. LA felt far enough to be safe.

But this.

This is different.

Another message comes through.

Thought you’d want to know.

You stare at that one for a long time.

Your city. His one night.

The possibility hanging there.

You stare at Thought you’d want to know until the screen dims.

Your heart is beating too loud for how quiet your apartment is.

You could ignore the implication. You could say that’s exciting, hope it goes well. You could play it safe.

Instead, you sit up straighter and type carefully.

Busy schedule? Or do you get to pretend you’re a normal person for a few hours.

You erase it.

Too pointed.

You try again.

Any plans after your meetings.

Neutral. Almost casual.

You hit send before you can overthink it.

The typing bubble appears quickly. Disappears. Comes back.

I was hoping you might ask that.

Your stomach flips.

Then, another message.

No plans yet.

You inhale slowly.

He doesn’t leave it there.

Do you want to get a drink?

There’s no hedging. No vague maybe we should. No soft landing.

Just direct.

Your pulse kicks up again.

You stare at the message, reading it twice to make sure you didn’t invent it.

This is real. He is in your city. For one night.

You type back, forcing your fingers to stay steady.

That depends.

A pause.

On what.

You smile despite yourself.

On whether you’ve improved your argument skills.

Three dots.

I can lose in English too. Very versatile.

You laugh quietly.

Then you type what you actually mean.

What time?

It takes a few seconds longer this time.

I’m free after nine. I can come to you. Or we can meet somewhere you’re comfortable. If that’s not too late.

There it is again. Direct. But careful.

Not assuming.

Your chest feels tight in a way that isn’t panic. It’s anticipation.

You glance around your apartment like it might offer guidance.

There’s a place near me. Quiet but nice. Not Midtown chaos, you write.

The reply comes quickly.

Send me the name.

Another pause.

See you at nine.

Your breath catches at the simplicity of it.

No overcomplicating. No dramatic build.

Just a plan.

You lock your phone slowly and stare at your reflection in the dark window.

One night.

Nine o’clock.

The second you lock your phone, the calm dissolves.

You stand in the middle of your bedroom staring at your closet like it personally orchestrated this.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter.

It is one drink. One man. One normal human interaction.

Except it is not normal and you know it.

You start pulling hangers aside too fast. Sweater. No. Too casual. Black dress. Absolutely not. That feels like you’re trying too hard. Jeans. Maybe. But which ones. The good ones. Obviously the good ones.

You sit on the edge of your bed and take a breath.

Cute and comfy. Well dressed. Effortless.

You settle on high waisted tailored trousers and a soft cream button up that drapes just right. Simple gold hoops. Loafers. Hair down, brushed out, not overly styled.

You look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like you. Just slightly steadier.

“Okay,” you whisper.

At 8:45 you’re pacing. At 8:50 you grab your coat. At 8:55 you’re walking faster than necessary.

The bar you chose is dim and narrow and usually quiet on weeknights. You push the door open at exactly 9:00.

No one else is there.

Just the bartender wiping down the counter and a couple in the corner booth speaking in low voices.

You swallow and walk to the bar, sliding onto a stool.

“Can I get you something?”

“Just a glass of red.”

Your phone sits face down on the bar in front of you.

9:02.

That’s fine. Two minutes means nothing.

You take a small sip of your wine and try not to look at the door every time it opens.

9:05.

He’s in Midtown. Traffic exists. Elevators exist. Security exists.

9:08.

Your stomach starts doing something uncomfortable.

You flip your phone over casually.

No new messages.

You open the app.

Nothing.

The last thing he said still sits there.

See you at nine.

You swallow.

9:10.

The bartender glances at the door when it opens. It’s not him. Just someone picking up a takeout order.

Heat creeps up your neck.

This is fine. You are early. Or he is late. That happens. That’s human.

9:12.

You open his profile again without meaning to. The same photos. The same half smile.

A ridiculous thought creeps in.

What if this is the long game.

What if you have been talking to someone who is not him. What if this is the punchline. What if you are about to become a story Camille tells at dinner parties.

9:15.

Your chest feels tight now.

You pick up your phone and hover over the chat.

You could send something casual.

You alive.

Too pointed.

All good.

Too needy.

You lock your phone again and place it back down carefully.

You will not spiral in public.

9:17.

The door opens again.

You look up automatically.

And for a split second, before your brain catches up, you think you might actually be getting catfished.

The door closes behind him and the cold air follows.

For half a second your brain doesn’t register anything except tall.

Then the details come into focus.

Black coat. Slightly windblown hair. That same half smile from the photos, only less curated. More real. His eyes scan the room quickly, adjusting to the dim light.

And then they land on you.

Recognition is instant.

Not confusion. Not hesitation.

Recognition.

Your stomach drops in a completely different way.

He walks toward the bar without rushing. Calm. Almost casual. Like this is just another Wednesday night and not the culmination of three weeks of careful conversation.

You are suddenly very aware of how you’re sitting. Of your hands. Of your face.

He stops a few feet away.

“Hi.”

His voice is softer than you expected. Warmer.

You blink once like your body needs to reboot.

“Hi.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Relief, maybe. Like he wasn’t entirely sure either.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Elevator situation.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “That tracks.”

He smiles properly at that.

Up close, he looks exactly like himself and not at all like a screen version. There’s texture. Movement. A small crease near his eyes when he smiles.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, nodding to the stool beside you.

You shake your head. “No.”

He slides onto it and shrugs off his coat, draping it over the back. The bartender appears immediately.

“Whiskey,” he says, then glances at you. “That okay?”

You nod, like you have any authority over it.

There’s a small beat of quiet once the bartender steps away.

This is the moment that could be awkward.

It isn’t.

He turns slightly toward you.

“You look like yourself,” he says.

You blink. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I wasn’t catfished.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself.

“That was absolutely my fear fifteen minutes ago.”

His eyebrows lift. “Really.”

“9:15 was dark for me.”

He laughs softly at that, shaking his head. “I should’ve sent a message. That’s on me.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly. “You’re here.”

The simplicity of that lands between you.

He studies you for a second in a way that doesn’t feel invasive. Just present.

“You’re real,” he says quietly.

“I could say the same.”

He smiles again, smaller this time. Less public. More private.

The bartender sets his drink down. He thanks him absentmindedly without breaking eye contact with you.

For a moment the noise of the bar fades into the background.

It’s just the two of you. No typing bubbles. No time difference. No distance.

Just this.

He takes a sip of his drink and tilts his head slightly.

“So,” he says. “Hi.”

And somehow it feels like the beginning all over again.

He purses his lips and tilts his head, fingers fiddling with the multicoloured bead necklace you made him so many years ago — something that's never left its place around his neck since the day you gave him it — as he looks down at the random man. He’s slumped in a drunken and drugged up state against the front door to your shared apartment, a swarm of people partying the night away behind you.

"Not a clue, love.” Harry finally says, shrugging with an expression worn that screams mischief, “But you know what they say. A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet!"

You can't help but roll your eyes at his blasé manner. Harry is so relaxed, and you’re so… uptight. It's been this way for as long as you’ve known him, which is so long now that you can't remember life without him. 

A lot of people wonder how you’ve managed to remain as best friends considering you’re complete opposites. You’re the glass half-empty. He’s the glass half-full. You’re dressed in all black with a scowl on your face. He’s a grinning, walking rainbow. You’re chalk and cheese, but you just work. 

Before you realise it, Harry is slinging his arm over your shoulder like he's done a million times before, and he’s walking you through the sardine-like hallway. You can't spot your actual friends. There are too many people and too much happening, and it’s all starting to feel a bit much for you to handle. 

You slip out from under his hold, which isn’t something you do all too often. Now that you have, Harry is quick to whip around and look at you; concern contorting his perpetually happy face.

"You good?" 

You shake your head, because you can't lie to him. To other people, you can smile and pretend like you’re okay, but not with Harry. It’s always been different with him. He'd also see through your bullshit if you tried to give him it.

The sound of a glass smashing followed by a loud cheer startles you, your eyes bulging out of your skull from the noise and destruction being caused in your flat. 

Harry looks over his shoulder to the source of the disaster, but he’s back to looking at you in an instant with a very sorry smile. You know that he's deliberating between leaving to kick out whoever it is that's making a mess of your home because they've freaked you out, and just staying to comfort you instead.

The latter is opted for, with him stepping forward and holding out his hand out for you to take. You’ve both been in this situation before. He knows what to do. 

“I’ve got you.” Harry murmurs, guilt in his gaze, “I’m so sorry for all of this, babe. But I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You say nothing as you link your fingers with his, but you do smile despite feeling panicked. The touch offers that familiar comfort that you know, trust and love so much, and you’re not upset with him for throwing a party. More so yourself for not being able to enjoy it. 

Harry avoids taking you further into the crowd, a smart move given your now frenzied state, and heads towards the bathroom, instead. It's the closest door, with both of your bedrooms on the other end of the hallway too out of reach for this kind of situation.

The second you’re both in and Harry closes the door behind, the noise on the other side of it dulls and you already start to feel slightly better. The blue LED lighting he installed in here also helps with that, but then again, so does just his presence.

Harry walks you over to the toilet and closes the lid, guiding you to sit on top of it. You do so with a smile, one that’s returned as he gives your hand a quick and gentle squeeze before letting go and sauntering over to the tub, where you watch him climb in fully clothed.

A small giggle bursts out from you at the sound of his denim-covered ass squeaking against the dry porcelain, which makes him roll his eyes and fight a smirk at your immature behaviour. Next, he’s leaning against the back of the tub; eyelids closing, hands linking behind his head, and he’s  dramatically sighing like he’s never been more comfortable.

"You're a weirdo."

His eyes open fast at your playful dig, smile widening further and dimples deepening. You’re obsessed with his little cheek canyons, but you’re not special there. Everybody is. 

"Well, that's just rude. I bring you in here, like the hero I am, and this is the thanks I get? You calling me a weirdo?” 

You scoff out a laugh as you stand up, Harry's gaze felt following every movement you make over to the small window. It's cracked open a little bit already, which allows in a nice, cool breeze that you needed. You were feeling a bit too warm.

A tinge of melancholia washes over you now, your state contemplative as you stare outside. You're annoyed with yourself for being so easily startled. So quick to panic. You can't help but wonder if others feel the same.

"Don’t you ever get sick of playing the hero for me, H?" You quietly ask, turning to look at him with the back of your head resting against the tiled wall and heart feeling heavy, "You've done it for so long now. I'd be sick of me."

Harry’s brows are furrowed in confusion, as though what you’ve just said was the most ludicrous thing in the world. It wasn’t, though. It was true.

But he argues with a shake of his head, no room for negotiation, "Not a chance. It's me and you forever, babe. So no more stupid questions, or I’m not responsible for dishing out stupid answers.”

You flip him off with a smirk, actions and a facial expression that he matches with ease. That makes you laugh as you grab the carton of cigarettes you left on the window sill earlier on; one pulled out, lit up and puffed in a matter of seconds. 

Indoor smoking isn't allowed, but ‘fuck the landlord’ was chanted a long time ago. There’s also a strong smell of weed coming from outside the bathroom, so clearly other's don't give a shit, either.

Harry tsks teasingly,, "Naughty, naughty. What've I told you about smoking?"

You exhale out the corner of my mouth, your cigarette pinched there and brows raise in question, "Only do it if you're doing it?"

"Atta girl. Gimme a draw."

Taking the few steps over to the bathtub, you lower yourself to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor by it. Harry's left arm lazily dangles over the edge, hand doing grabby motions that make you giggle.

You give his grinning self the cigarette, your focus on the way his already sharp jaw sharpens some more from the draw he takes. It’s passed your way again as Harry throws his head back to blow out a thick plume of smoke, eyes on the ceiling while yours are on his throat. Your own has a lump in it, one you harshly swallow away. 

"We're never getting our security deposit back."

You giggle at his comment before taking another drag, his head dropping down showing you his sunshine smile as you exhale. 

"Think that ship sailed when you burnt a hole in the carpet with a blunt on your birthday last year." You tease. 

His focus on your lips is something you’ve noticed countless times before, but never paid much mind to. You know it’s just because he’s paying attention to what you’re saying. Harry is good like that. He really listens.

But it's happening right now, and you’re not speaking anymore.

You clear your throat, Harry snapped out of whatever daze he was in thanks to that. You offer him a curious look, the teasing moment forgotten about. You’re much too focused on what the hell that was, instead. 

But he isn’t. Harry nabs the cigarette from your fingers, staring at the burning end for a second before he takes another drag. 

You can tell there’s something on his mind, but you’re not the kind of person to pry. If he wanted to say, he would.

So silence surrounds you both as you pass the cigarette back and forth some more. The party still rages outside this room, but you don't find yourself caring or worrying anymore. You’re comforted and calm, even though there's a part of you that feels something else now, too. 

You just can't figure out what that is yet, or why it's happening.

"Wanna play a game?"

Upon Harry’s sudden suggestion, you zone back in from zoning out, your eyes landing on his stupidly pretty fingers. With nails painted yellow by you, and chunky gold jewellery wrapped around seven out of ten, they make stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray balanced on the side of the white porcelain tub look like the most beautiful performance. 

Your lips twitch into a smirk as his question finally registers, “What are you… twelve years old?"

He sticks his tongue out at you in a petulant way, proving your point. You scoff a laugh as he slides further down the tub until the back of his neck rests on the edge of it, and he's facing you with a cheeky smile. 

“D’you wanna play or not?" 

"Depends on what game you had in mind."

"Truth or Dare."

You can't help but scoff another laugh as you shake your head, Harry watching with a fond look in his eyes as you do. You hate your laugh, but he has a way of making it come out in a way that you don't despise.

"You really are twelve, but sure. I'll play. I act as infantile as you, so why not?" 

"You know the rules." He smirks, "Can't pick truth twice in a row. It's a cop out." 

You give him a deadpan look and go to call him out for the playful jibe, but the sound of a banging on the door interrupts. 

"Fuck off, it's occupied!" Harry shouts out abruptly, the sound of dull mumbling and groaning on the other side of the door quick to follow.

That has you giggling and him grinning. His eyes do a slow up and down dance across the entirety of you before locking with your own.

"So… where were we?” He ponders, lips pursing in thought before they're stretched into another brilliant smile, “Oh yeah, the rules. You got it?" 

You finally throw him that deadpan look. "H, we've been playing this game on and off for years. I think I know by now."

"Just checking." Harry shrugs, hands raised in defence, “Okay, ladies first. Truth or Dare?"

You know that he expects you to pick truth. Everybody expects it whenever you play, and for good reason. You always pick it. 

It's why Harry brought up the rule. You're the shy one, but that's usually because even around all of your other friends, you don't feel fully comfortable.

But it's just you and Harry now. He makes you feel that and more. You’re safe with him.

"Dare." 

At that, Harry's eyebrows raise, "Oo, somebody's bold." 

You scowl at him playfully, something he laughs at before his gaze wanders the room and lands on something. His face lights up. Inspiration has struck. 

"Okay, I dare you to eat the rest of the toothpaste in that tube."

Following his vision, you find the almost finished tube he speaks of lying beside the pot holding your toothbrushes. Any fuller and you'd have said no, not really fancying stomach problems from all the fluoride. But this you can manage.

You stare at him teasingly unimpressed, "Toothpaste? Really? That's the best you can do?"

"Listen, darling, I'm working with what I've got." Harry laughs, nudging his chin toward the tube, "Now go on. Eat!"

Rolling your eyes, you push up to stand and walk towards the toothpaste tube on the countertop. You grab and get to it, the rest of its contents squeezed into your mouth from a height, your tongue out to catch the minty cream. You can feel Harry watching, no doubt with a proud smile that you're doing his dare with a bit of flare.

With a mouth full of toothpaste now closed and stretched into a grin, you glance back his way, finding him indeed watching, but his proud smile is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, you watch as he runs his tongue across his plump bottom lip before he's tugging it behind his two front teeth, his eyes glazed over and black.

The colour change could be from the lighting, but you know you're kidding yourself thinking that. They didn't look that shade before you stood up, and they definitely weren't looking at you with such hunger, either.

You swallow the contents with a hard gulp, bringing a thumb up to clean away a bit of paste at the corner of your mouth. For some reason, you can't look away from Harry as you do it. This new expression of his, one you've never witnessed before... it’s got you in a trance.

Silence swarms you both, a buzz in the air that didn't exist before. You can't place why there is, why it's here, but it makes you feel more comfortable. You feel safer than ever.

"Ta-dah!" You sing out, cracking the silence while waving the empty tube in victory.

Your words break Harry out of whatever daze he seemed to have found himself in yet again. His gaze flits from your mouth to your eyes, a half-smile appearing. 

You bow, he claps, and then you're back to the tub and sitting yourself on the edge of it this time, looking down at him looking up at you. That new, wild look is still in his eyes.

What’s caused the change is something you need to know. You wish you could be direct and just ask him, but that's not your style. 

But maybe it's time to give your brain a break from all the overthinking and overworking it does by being upfront. By asking questions.

You're comfortable. Safe. The cause of such feelings are the few drinks you've had tonight, the comforting blue bathroom lighting and Harry. Most of all, it's thanks to him. Even if he's looking at you in a way that says anything but comfort.

"What?" You ask, voice barely a whisper. 

You wanted to sound a lot more confident, and you also wanted to say more than one vague word. But then again, Harry knows you so well. He knows what you meant.

A small smirk appears on his lips again, the dark shade of his eyes yet to falter as he shakes his head slowly, "Nothing."

That's the first lie Harry’s ever told you. There's definitely something.

Looking at him with squinted eyes that silently calls bullshit, his answer lingers in the air, but you're willing to brush it off. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Moving on from it will just have to suffice. He knows you won't press for more, so he's off the hook.

"Okay, my turn." You mutter, "Truth or Dare, H?"

"Dare."

You knew that was coming, your eyes quick to roam around the bathroom, looking for inspiration. You can feel him watching you. Grinning at you. You're smiling now, too. 

Your sights land on the shower head hanging up high in front of him and behind you. A lightbulb goes off in your mind, your grin back to pointing his way.

“Sit in the tub fully clothed while I turn the shower on."

"And you judged me for picking toothpaste?" He taunts, "At least your breath is smelling nice now."

Your mouth drops in faux offence, "Shut up and do it. You need a wash."

He flips you off, giggles pouring from you as you shift to stand. The water is turned on before he can think twice, sputtering to life and shutting his smug self up. Sort of. 

"Fuck! Shit! That's so cold!"

His gasped words and fight for breath makes you laugh even more. You hadn’t forgotten how freezing cold the water is before it finally reaches the perfect temperature. 

A quick-to-soak Harry seems to realise what you’re in the know of too, his glare betrayed by his grin and giggles, “You're a little fucking witch!"

"You love it really."

At that, his laughter softens and that unfamiliar look crosses his face again. He brings a hand up to wipe the water from his face before he brushes his hair back, all of him now completely drenched.

The water hitting him and the tub is all that can be heard now. There’s no sound of the party anymore. 

It's just the pair of you, like you’re the only two people in the world. It always feels like that when it's just you and him.

From the way Harry looks at you again, he seems to think that, too. And it looks like he likes that. 

You know you do.

Swallowing hard, you fidget with the hem of your dress, feeling nervous again, "It's your turn to ask me."

Harry smirks once more, an expression of surprise on his face despite the cocky curve of his lips. You’re always quick to end the game. The fact that you’re pressing to play on… that’s new to him. Much like the way he looks at you is new to you.

"Truth or Dare?" 

You could easily pick the former since you chose the latter last time, but you’re a little anxious of what he might ask you. You don't have any answers to anything right now. 

"Dare."  

"Get in the tub with me."

You were quick with your answer, and Harry was quick with his suggestion, but neither of you were as quick as your movements now. There’s no hesitation from you to do as you’ve been dared; another unusual thing for you. You always take a minute to think, or, more accurately, overthink.

Stepping into the tub and under the stream, the water soaks you; sticking your t-shirt dress to you like a second skin as it makes your hair hang heavy in front of your face. You’re both laughing as Harry creates some more space for you by sitting himself up straight. 

With his knees popped some more, you lower yourself to the floor and sit facing him cross-legged, your legs narrowly avoiding one another. It's uncomfortable, though.

"Not like that, silly. Put your legs over mine." Harry speaks softly, patting the small space by his hips, "Feet here."

You nod and do as he says, shimmying forward. Your ass now squeaks against the tub, and you’re both laughing louder as you get yourself situated.

Once your feet are planted where he instructed, the sight of one of his hands coming close to your face catches you off guard. Harry hovers by it briefly before reaching to tuck your hair behind my ear; your face no longer hidden, and his bright eyes on full display again.

"There." He murmurs, pulling his hand back after lingering for a moment or two, "Much better."

You find yourself mesmerised not only by his words and touch, but by him. By the droplets running down his face and off of his chiselled jawline. By his eyelashes that are damp and stuck together. By his sopping wet curls chaotically hanging over his forehead. 

Harry really is beautiful. It's no wonder that everybody loves him.

The near proximity you’re both in makes you feel nervous, and you don’t know why. But you give yourself a mental head shake, desperate to rid the anxiety you feel and trance you’re under. You’re spiralling, and you shouldn’t be. There’s no reason to.

"Truth or Dare?" You ask, moving the game along. 

"Truth." 

His reply was quick. Determined. Serious. No theatrics. 

And it’s also caught you completely off guard, but something about it is very telling. Like choosing truth is his way of getting you to say, or ask, what you failed to earlier.

So you will. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" 

Harry's brows furrow, his expression puzzled, "Like what?"

You tilt your head, letting your gaze flit over his face for a moment while pondering how to word what you’re thinking and what his gaze looks like to you. 

It comes to you pretty fast, and makes you feel more nervous than ever; a hard swallow following your findings.

"Like you love me." 

As you watch Harry's face relax into that familiar smile that you know and love, you also pay witness to his eyes shining brighter than ever. All confusion is gone in him, and stronger than ever in you. 

"Because I do." 

There’s nothing but truth and conviction in his tone. You know Harry loves you, because he's told you enough times. He’s your best friend for fuck sake, of course he loves you.

But that look he's been giving you, the one he still gives you right now… it’s more than that. So you shake your head dismissively. 

"No, that's not it."

"I dunno what else to tell you, babe. That's my answer.” He shrugs, nudging his chin your way, “Truth or Dare?"

That's the second lie Harry has ever told you. You can't stop yourself from growing a little annoyed, as well as more anxious, at his flippant answer and the need to move past it so quickly.

You huff out a sigh, willing to go on even if you’re frustrated, "Dare."

"Kiss me."

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of those two words, "Excuse me?!" 

"You heard me.” Harry counters quickly,, leaning forward some more with his elbows now resting on the edge of the tub. Water hits your shoulders and sprays onto him, his smile gleaming. His aura bold, “Kiss me." 

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, "Friends don't kiss, H.”

His grin widens as he inches closer again. You can smell his cologne, tobacco and vanilla, and it's sending you into a frenzy. 

He doesn't look phased by your statement. Instead, Harry roams his gaze over your face, landing on your lips briefly before finding your eyes again, that new but fast-becoming-familiar look in his own more intense. Captivating. Magnetic.

"What if I told you I don't wanna be just friends anymore?" 

Your whole body runs hot and cold from his calm confession. There's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach that shouldn't be caused by just a friend. Your best friend. That’s all he's ever been to you, and all you thought he ever would be.

But really, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, to you, Harry has been more than just your best friend for a while. 

There have been moments where jealousy has twisted your stomach seeing him kiss his short-lived lovers. Times of tossing and turning where you wished he was in bed next to you, cuddling you to his chest while you chatted. Occasions of pining where you’d both see couples in the street walk hand-in-hand, and you felt tempted to reach out and take Harry’s in yours.

You’ve never made any moves. Never hinted toward having a crush on him. Never really admitted it to yourself, until now. 

The fear of things fucking up between you if you took things further, or even opened up about how you felt, was too much to even entertain the idea, so you’d brushed it away. Having Harry in your life as your best friend was better than not having him at all.

And you didn’t think he’d ever feel the same way about you, but now, upon his questioned confession, that’s changed. Everything has, and you want to be as bold as he is about it. To dive in head first. To indulge in the inklings that have been brewing for years. To give yourself over to him in a whole new way.

So you will.

"What if I said I felt the same?" You whisper, sounding nowhere near as confident as Harry did, but that’s standard. He's always been a butterfly. You’ve always been a caterpillar.

You know he sees you as you see him, though. It’s even written all over his beautiful face right now. 

Harry inches forward once again, his smile wider than ever so close to your own, "Then I'd say show me exactly what friends aren't supposed to do.”

Unlike so many occasions where you take pause to think of your next move, that's not happening now. It can’t. You’ve paused for too long when it comes to him.

So  you push your own head forward, two pairs of smiling mouths so close to meeting that your breaths have struck up a dance. Yours shaky and nervous. Harry's collected and strong. 

The tension right now… you need it to snap. You just know it's going to feel so good when it does.

You’re proven right the moment your lips softly connect. Euphoria runs through every inch of your body, a feeling you revel in. One you didn’t think could exist between you and your best friend, but it’s chaos and calm and you already can’t get enough.

Your mouths move in perfect synchronicity, slight trepidation to the embrace like you’d expect from two people kissing for the first time. It’s sweet and wholesome, though, even if the pulse between your thighs and small throaty moan have very different emotions behind them.

Harry breaks the kiss apart, resting his forehead against yours, “You can't be making noises like that, love."

"Why not?" You ask, eyes opening to find his still closed and a smile of contentment on his now glossy lips.

"Because I'll never want you to make any other."

Harry pulls back and gives you his gaze, his pupils now entirely blown out, and you’re hit with understanding of what that look from before meant. Means. You've finally pieced it all together. 

It's lust.

He runs his tongue across his lower lip before you’re given another smirk. It's dangerous and divine, and your body reacts to it further in the form of hitched breaths, more butterflies, and a throbbing pussy. You’re falling apart already and all you’ve done is kiss. Maybe that’s all you’ll both do…

But you want to go further, and you can tell Harry does, too. It’s crystal clear. You just need to let him know how you feel in case he doesn’t already know.

"Sounds good to me." You murmur, at peace with your decision. You crave more. Crave him.

Harry seems to agree too, because now it's him that closes the gap between you both. Your lips piece together seamlessly again, starting off sweet and slow like the first one, but it’s quick to transition into anything but that. 

You’re both moving messily. Maniacally. The feeling of his tongue lapping itself around yours lets you taste the cigarette you just shared, and the tequila he's been swigging all night. Your body arches into him, hands knotting in his hair tugging at his soaked locks. 

Harry groans, the sound guttural and gorgeous. It makes you understand what he meant about only wanting to hear one sound from you, because the noise he just made… it was heavenly. It’s the only one you ever want to hear him make now. 

"Harder." He mumbles against your lips, his pleading command doing nothing but make more arousal pool in your panties. 

You do as he says, yanking harder. Another gorgeous groan given from him as he cups your face, hands tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. He’s taking full control, which is more than fine by you. You want him to have every bit of you, however he wants it.

The air is hot from the water still pouring as much as it is from the embrace. You smooth your hands away from their hold in Harry's hair to the collar of his rainbow striped t-shirt, grinning against his mouth when he shivers from your touch.

Pulling at it in a silent request for him to take it off makes him laugh through his nose, his hands leaving your face to give you what you want. He stops the kiss to rid the material, the temperature heating up further with the rugged breaths you both make through your separated, swollen lips ghosting one anothers.

Laughter pours too, because Harry struggles to peel his top off. The material is completely drenched and stuck to his skin, but when he frees himself from the fabric and throws it onto the bathroom floor, the laughter fades out fast. Silence swallows you both up comfortably. Nervously. Excitedly.

He cradles your jaw again, gaze darting between your own drinking you in. You nestle into his palm and do the same, absorbing every detail of him. 

The strands of wet hair that have fallen over his face and how they’re already starting to adorably curl. His lips plumper than usual from all of the kissing. His stuck-together lashes framing his pretty eyes blinking more frequently, like he’s dazed and can’t believe what’s happening. 

Looking down at his torso all naked and on full display, you feel blessed. You’ve seen Harry shirtless a million times, although none quite like right now. 

In the blue hue you’re surrounded by, his tattoos pop and look blacker than ever. You get lost looking at his prominent collarbones, subtle pecs, and toned stomach that looks so soft and sweet in his seated position. 

And you also fall victim to following the happy trail of sparse hair beneath his belly button that disappears into the waistband of his jeans, a blush on your cheeks as you glance briefly at the hardness confined within them. 

"You're so fucking beautiful." 

Harry’s mumbled words pull your eyes up, finding him lost in a trance caused by you. Your cheeks that he strokes with his thumbs are rosy red from his compliment, your hands running up his ribs as you give him a dizzy smile.

"Right back atcha, Styles." 

He grins and laughs lightly before catching your lips with his again, the kiss picking up where you left off. The pulse between your thighs grows with every swirl of your tongues, every line he gently traces over your cheeks, every soft moan emanating from him. 

Your mind spins in the most amazing way, and that only accelerates further when Harry breaks away from your lips to sloppily and hungrily make his way along the jawline he holds, going down to the space beneath your ear. His lips feel incredible, small sparks left behind when he ventures onto your neck and to the hollow of your throat.

Your hands knit in his hair even tighter than before, your moans hitting the air unabashedly. If his mouth feels as magical as this, you’re equal parts nervous and excited to find out how good other parts of him feel, too. 

Pressing one more kiss, he now pulls back with a smirk, "So… what else don't friends do?" 

He's putting the ball in your court right now, and you know why. Harry, the forever gentleman, is living up to that name. He's making sure you’re comfortable, that you know you’ve got the power here, even if he has the physical upperhand. He wants you to speak your mind now more than ever.

Screwing your mouth to the side in faux thought lasts for a second before you give him a dazzling smile and a shrug, "Friends don't go down on one another."

At that, his brows raise and smile deepens, "They sure as shit don't."

He wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours again, the pair of you simultaneously scooting back until you’re leaning against the edge of the tub behind you; the pouring water ahead.  

On his knees between your spread legs, your fingers tangled up in his hair fall from place as he pulls back to sit on his ankles. Harry grins, the stream of water behind him hitting off his broad back and trickling down his front; your eyes shamelessly on the droplets that run down his torso and pool at the hem of his low waist jeans.

Your gaze doesn't stop where the water does, though. With his jeans drenched and clung to him, and the fact they were already slim fitting, the outline of his large, thick cock strains against the material more visible than ever. 

You know Harry is well endowed having heard it enough times from many of his conquests. He's always been casual about it, which only confirms the fact he's got a big dick. He exudes that energy, too.

You’ve both also had more discussions than you can count about sexual experiences to know one another's most embarrassing moments, best experiences, kinks and what neither of you like. 

For example, you know Harry loves eating pussy as he's talked about the power of it enough times. You say talked, but praised would be a better descriptive word.

While this is all so new and unfamiliar between you, it also feels old and familiar. The information and knowledge about one another is there. You just haven't put it into practice.

But that’s about to change.

Harry's hands move to pull up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. Your black lace panties are exposed to him, which makes him let out a gentle groan, before he’s hungrily looking up at you through his lashes.

"How attached are you to these?" He asks, nudging his chin to your underwear.

You smirk, shaking your head, "Not very."

"Was hoping you'd say that." 

Before you realise it, your panties are gone. Harry has ripped them effortlessly off your body and thrown the flimsy fabric aside. A small stinging sensation hits your hips from the force, and you moan from the feeling and action. 

You’re now completely bare down there, your pussy on full display to Harry for the first time ever. Never in a million years did you think this would be something he'd see, and while you feel you should shy away from that, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at it, at you, with so much desire. 

"So pretty." He hums mindlessly, sounding and looking to be in another trance.

You can’t help but giggle, however it's a sound that dies in your throat when Harry takes hold of your calves and lifts them onto his shoulders. Your hands grip the side of the tub as his snake under your ass to grab handfuls of it, elevating you slightly. 

His lopsided smile, dangerous and delicious, now hovers between your thighs, only inches away from your dripping cunt. 

"Let's see what other sweet sounds I can get out of you, yeah?"

You don't have a response for that. His lust-filled words have you stunned. 

Even if you did have one, it wouldn’t see the light of day. Not when Harry pulls a moan from you instead by closing the gap between his mouth and your pussy; his tongue licking a teasingly slow stripe up through it. 

Immediately, you fall apart, body tingling from head to toe as you watch him while he watches you. You couldn’t look away even if you tried. You’re hypnotised. 

Harry stops at your clit, smiling against you. You pant and squirm; Needy your first, middle and last name.

"I know, babe. I know." He murmurs, his breath fanning and tickling against your hot, soaked skin, "I'll give you more."

Wasting no more time, he completely buries his face between your thighs. Nose flush against your mound, he breathes you in. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, licking and kissing it. Head gently and repeatedly moving from left to right, nuzzling as he eats you out like you’re his last meal.

Your hands grip the porcelain of the tub so hard, you swear it could crack. All you can do is moan, moan and moan some more, your head lighter than air and the ability to speak long gone. 

But upon his tongue now dipping into your hole, you become a new woman. One possessed. 

"Oh my God!" You yell, throat tight and thighs tensing, “Please, H…more!”

And he gives you it, fucking your cunt with his tongue like a man on a mission. You know you’re making a mess of him, although it’s hard to tell what’s you and what’s from the shower head that still sprays and soaks you both. 

He’s still grinning against you, and feeling that is as arousing as the way he eats you out. The cockiness. The confidence. The cheekiness. You love it, and it’s got your orgasm building quickly, quicker than it’s ever built up before. It's not hard to tell that Harry knows what he's doing. He really does worship pussy.

Humming in satisfaction, the feeling of it vibrates against you. Sends shockwaves through you. You’re writhing and wriggling uninhibited, your toes curling fiercely and fists white-knuckling the tub.  

His mouth moving back to your clit makes your hips buck up, his face pressing further into your cunt. You’d panic, but Harry seems into it, and if anything, he takes it as an invitation to squeeze your ass harder. Devour you even more. 

One particularly hard suck on your swollen bud makes the balloon in your stomach pop. A sense of calm and warmth rushes through you as you climax, Harry’s grip on your behind tightening even more than before as you do. 

His blunt nails bite the flesh as he pulls off your clit and heads down to your hole, tongue back inside it to collect your release. Through your weary eyes that he’s still locked onto, you watch as he laps up every drop you give him. 

Your trembling body starts to settle after what feels like forever of earth-shattering pleasure. Harry lowers you carefully, your ass meeting the tub while you suck in desperate breaths.

He sits back on his ankles, your eyes honing on his tongue. Harry runs it across his bottom lip, savouring every bit of you. He hums at the taste, smiling wickedly.

You’re spent from your orgasm, but also turned on at the prospect of giving him one. He’s had a taste of you. Now, you want a taste of him.

At that, you grin and nudge your chin towards him, "Stand up."

With raised brows and widened eyes, Harry’s grin grows some more. He doesn’t say a thing, but he does do as he was told.

On his feet, water hits the top of his shoulders and sprays over them, thicker beads of it back to running down every delicious contour of his torso. You swallow hard as you shift to rest on your knees, your focus dropping to look at the very prominent bulge in his jeans just begging to be freed.

Smirking up at him, you smooth your palms up his calves and thighs. His chest heaves, breaths rugged from your touch. Harry is putty in your hands, just like you were in his.

You stop the taunting journey at his waistband, running the pad of your index finger along his jagged left hip bone and the fern tattoo inked there. The way he gasps, his stomach twitches and eyes locked on yours grow more feral… it’s intense. It’s incredible.

"Are you always such a cock tease?" 

His voice, rough and so arousing, makes you giggle. You dip your digit beneath the denim, gently trailing the back of it along the soft skin.

“Maybe… is that a problem?"

Harry is quick to shake his head, his smirk back and better than ever, "Not at all, love. But I'll be sure to show you just what happens to those who are if you wanna keep it up."

At that, your breath hitches. Your cunt throbs again, thighs squeezed together to satiate it as you move on to undo his jeans; your focus on his face to make sure what you’re doing is okay by him. That he’s okay in general.

The look on Harry’s tells you he's more than that. He looks thrilled. 

But he knows you. He understands that you’re looking for reassurance, so he nods and smiles while smoothing your hair back away from your face.

"Go ahead, darling. Do what you want to me. I’m all yours to use however you want." 

You can’t help but moan, moving faster, too. Harry chuckles quietly at your eagerness, a shy smile on your face and cheeks painted pink because of it. 

With his jeans now undone, you pull the wet material along with his boxers down his legs until they’re at his feet, leaving Harry to step out and kick them away while you hone in on his now free cock. 

The tip, all red, swollen and leaking, rests against his lower stomach, staining his skin and happy trail with the milky-coloured precome. Prominent veins run up the length of a silky smooth, thick and long shaft. And his balls, well-groomed and heavy-looking, are just begging to be drained.

You salivate at the sight, looking up at him in total awe only to find he’s looking down at you with the same expression, his hands continuing to run through your hair. You’re starving for Harry, just like he was, and probably still is, for you.

Grabbing his length, you don't waste any time in gently stroking up the skin you knew would be as soft as velvet. A divine whine tumbles from Harry, your hand wrapped around him with a good amount of pressure feeling him out. Squeezing him a little.

Flattening your tongue and swiping it over his slit, cleaning up the precome spilling from it, makes Harry groan. The sound rattles in his chest while the salty taste of him coats your tongue. You hum at the flavour, needing more. Needing all of it.

You wrap your lips around his tip, suckling and flicking your tongue against it. You continue to work his length with your hand, your eyes remaining on his face. You don't want to miss a second of watching him come completely undone from your touch. 

And what Harry gives you is pure art. His head alternates between dropping back in pleasure, and his stubbled chin meeting his shaky chest. He fists your hair tightly, fighting his lids to keep his focus on yours. He seems determined to not miss a minute of you, too.

It makes you smile, just like he did when he gave you head. Harry gives you a lazy one back, the glint in his eyes as devilish as your thoughts. 

You bring one of them to life by pulling back and delivering a quick spit to his cock. The atmosphere shifts from somewhat slow and sweet to filthy and feral fast,  your move catching him by surprise. One he seems to appreciate by the way his fist in your hair tightens further as his eyes grow darker. 

"Again." 

After moaning at his raspy command, you don’t hesitate to obey it. You spit again, his own groan hitting the air as your saliva hits his cock. 

“Such a good girl.” He coos, smirking as he does, “Now clean it up."

You whimper and comply, picking up where you just left off only now, you bob your head as you suck while twirling your tongue around his shaft, lapping up your spit while sinking lower and lower. The more that his cock disappears in your mouth, the louder Harry’s moans get. The more euphoric he looks. 

"Look at you almost taking all of me.” He hums, eyes on your lips wrapped around him before meeting your hazy vision, “Think you can fit it all? You’re so close, darling. You wanna keep going for me?”

Nodding as best as you can makes him grin. His tip is grazing the back of your mouth now and there isn’t too much of him left out, but you want it all in just like he does.

Breathing in and out through your nose and gripping Harry's thighs hard, you push your head forward until there’s no more room to go. Your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, and his cock is curved down your throat, stretching it out.

Spit bubbles in the corner of your mouth as tears spring from your eyes. You’re more light-headed than ever before. Something you can just tell Harry feels, too.

Swallowing around him brings forth the most pornographic-sounding moan, his legs trembling along with it. His eyes roll into the back of his head. His lazy smile lazier.

"Fuck… that it. That’s my good girl.” 

You let your throat clamp around and tease his tip for as long as you can before pulling back as soon as you’ve reached your limit. A string of saliva connects your lower lip to his tip as you cough and breathe in much needed air.

Harry's hands in your hair are quick to cup your face again, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears before he moves them to sever the spit string. He rubs the moisture across your now swollen, parted lips, grinning down at you brightly.

"God, you’re fucking incredible. " He hums in awe, "Stand up for me, babe."

You pout at him with stitched-together brows, "But I'm not finished."

“If you keep going with your pretty mouth working magic on me like it just did, I will be, and I'm nowhere near ready to let that happen yet.” Harry chuckles, taking a hold of both your hands, " C'mon, now. Be a good girl and stand."

The praise. The nickname. The way he touches you. Looks at you. He could have you do whatever he wanted, truly.

You let him help you up, your wet dress stuck to your body capturing his attention. His eyes are brazenly glued to your tits, a smirk worn while you fight your own. 

Pinching the hem of your dress that fell back to your mid-thigh as you stood up, you now pull it up and off your body, and toss the fabric to lie with his clothes. You stand before Harry entirely naked now as he does for you, no bra to take off. You’re not a fan of them. 

His blown-out gaze lingers on your chest as his hands find their home on your hips, his thumb rubbing soft and slow circles. He hides his bottom lip behind his sweet bunny teeth, but when his eyes meet yours again, his lips shift from twitching at the corners into a full blown smile.

"You're so pretty, babe." He whispers, tone low but honesty loud, "So fucking pretty."

Your skin tints pinker at yet another one of his compliments. It’s not the first time he's ever said such a thing, but it’s different now. It means something more. 

Your mouths meet again, the pair of you humming as you kiss. You swipe your tongue across his lower lip, asking him to let you in. You want to taste yourself on his tongue. You want him to taste himself on yours.

He lets you in, clearly just as eager. The second your tongues touch and the taste of one another is shared, you’re both moaning in delight. 

Harry pulls you closer to his body until you’re flush against him. His quivering cock is pressed against your stomach, and his hands slip down to once more take greedy handfuls of your backside. 

He grins against your mouth before pulling his away, "You okay, babe?" 

His voice so full of care warms you up. You nod fast, grinning back just as wide.

"More than. Let's fuck away our friendship, yeah?"

At that, Harry laughs loudly, the sound filling your heart to the point you worry it could explode. You've loved his laugh for so many years, but now it's like you’re hearing it for the first time. Everything is brand new and beautiful.

The sound fades out, but his grin remains. Harry jerks his chin towards the wall behind you. 

“Put your back against the wall, and lift a foot onto the side of the tub."

You once more clench around nothing thanks to his words and the dominant cadence he delivered them in. You take the steps back until you reach the wall, your spine meeting the tile, and raise your right leg before resting your foot on the edge of the porcelain.

Harry follows in your footsteps, stopping between your parted legs. He roams every inch of your face and torso, honing in on your pussy all spread and soaked. 

He groans at the sight, which makes you shiver and mewl, and the sound earns his eyes back on yours. 

"You're still on the pill, right?" 

“I am." You tell him truthfully, swallowing hard, “Why? You wanna fuck without a condom?”

His gaze grows hazy. Smirk as devilish as ever, "Only if you’re comfortable with that. There’s a box of them in the cabinet if not, so I don’t mind grabbing one.”

You shake your head fast, “No condom. I wanna feel every bit of you, but only if you’re comfortable with it, too.”

“I am.” He echoes your earlier words, lips stretching from a smirk into a toothy grin, “I wanna feel every bit of this sweet cunt, too. Been dreaming about it for so long.”

The back of your head falls back to press against the tiles, tipped that way to stare up at Harry staring down at you. Your eyes are wide with the surprise you feel hearing him say such a thing.

“You have?”

“Mhm.” He hums, dipping down to run his nose along the length of yours, “‘M more than happy to divulge my dirty daydreams about you later, babe. But right now, I’m a little more focused on making them a reality. What d’ya say?”

You choke on a breath, blinking rapidly as you nod, “Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.”

Harry laughs, the sound as infectious as ever pulling giggles from you. Your hands slide along his arms while his grip your hips, the firmness in his touch almost as dizzying as watching him now gather saliva behind his teeth to spit a string of it down onto his rock solid cock.

You try to swallow the moan that comes from the sight of that, but it’s impossible. It was just too hot, and watching Harry now fuck his fist with his right hand only makes it more of a challenge. Especially when he’s moaning, too. 

Squirming impatiently, a desperation like no other has taken over you. Harry pulls himself together a tad, sending you a taunting grin mixed in with a scolding expression.

"Needy little thing, aren't you?" 

You nod and whimper “yes” as he continues to stroke his cock, the tip of it brushing against your stomach. More precome blurts from his slit, staining your skin. Teasing you.

"C'mon, Harry.” You whine and writhe, “Give it to me." 

Before you realise it, Harry's cock is at your entrance, the head of it gently grazing your hole. He removes his hand now that he’s anchored in, his fingers gathering the saliva and precome cocktail from his shaft before he’s smearing it across your parted lips that pant out heavy breaths of want.

Just when you think he’s about to give in and give you what you want, he’s gripping your face tightly. Your mouth puckers up while his stretches into a grin, his stare more intense and wicked than ever.

"Say please." 

"Please. God- please." You beg, mumbled thanks to Harry's hold on your face, and his words scrambling your brain. You can feel yourself dripping down your thighs, so turned on you could actually cry.

His hand softens until he’s cupping your chin in his palm, fingers either side of your cheeks so soft and tender, “Good girl.”

Pushing his hips up, his cock slowly starts to slide in. You moan loudly, your wet walls stretching to allow his thick length in, yet they hug him so tightly, too. You can feel every delicious ridge of his length, your pussy fluttering as your eyelids do the same.

With his mouth back on yours, Harry catches your sounds. They harmonise gorgeously with his own; every inch of Harry sinking inside of you causing both to grow in volume. 

Balls deep, he stops. Your lips separate, sweat-slicked foreheads pressing together and broken breaths fanning across one another’s faces. You’re smiling lazily. Harry is, too.

“You okay?” He sweetly asks, sounding as dizzy as you are, “How d’you feel?" 

"So fucking good. Better than good. Perfect. You’re perfect.”

Harry chuckles gently, kissing the tip of your nose. "Right back atcha. How d’you want me?”

“Fast. Rough. Please.”

“You got it, love.”

The sweet, tender moment ends there. He pulls out fast only to push back in even faster, fucking up into you just how you wanted. The atmosphere becomes as feral as the noises you both make, the squelching sound of your cunt wrapped around his cock and his balls slapping against you.

"Fuck, Harry… right there!” You cry out, tears rolling down your face, “Please, don't stop!" 

Your hands in his hair are white-knuckled, much like his right hand on your hip. His left now slaps against the tiled wall beside your head behind you, using it to support himself to keep up the animalistic pace.

Sex on someone else has never looked so good. Harry is sex. Pure fucking sex. 

His brow is all furrowed and sweat-slicked, with soaked strands of hair clinging to it and hanging over his blacked eyes that flit between your fucked-out face and bouncing tits. His sharp jaw twitching. His swollen lips parted allowing out pants and groans.

You’re on cloud nine, and you know he’s right there with you. But you can both go beyond there. Together, you can fly through space. 

“Choke me, Harry.”

At your request, his jaw clenches harder and he sends you another dangerous smile. His hand on the wall moves to cup the side of your neck, his head cocked in intrigue.

"Is that what you want?"

You nod slowly, smirking back, "Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Give me a necklace as pretty as the one I gave you."

Your focus flits down to the beaded accessory still worn by him as he laughs through his nose, palm sliding to the front of your throat. The way he moves it is slow. Careful. A complete juxtaposition to the fast and hard fucking he's giving you.

"What else do you want?" He asks, his tone laced with challenge.

“Your come.” You whine, wetting your lips while clenching your cunt, “Wanna milk every last drop from you. Want you to fuck it deep inside me.”

Harry’s eyes roll from your words before he’s back to pinning them on you and piercing you with his stare. 

Panting sharp puffs of air through his parted lips that are curled at the corners from his smirk, his hand wraps around your throat; his fingers pressing into the exact right places with the exact right amount of pressure. 

You grow dizzier, more light-headed, than ever. Your grin is lazy, and you’re totally lost to the incredible feeling of being choked as you’re being ruined, your moans croaky and pussy wetter than it already was.

"Such a good girl taking me like this.” Harry grunts, your hazy vision clearing to find his looking glazed over, “You thought about this happening between us like I have, baby? Thought about me balls deep in your tight little cunt? My hand squeezing your throat as tightly as your pussy squeezes my cock?”

Whimpering at his words, you nod your head as best as you can, "Fuck, I have. So many times, H."

You’re not lying there. There have been more than a few occasions that you’ve thought about it, especially when you’d heard him fucking somebody else through the thin wall that connects your bedrooms. 

But you were just friends. Best friends. You had no intentions of telling him your thoughts or how you wished it was you he was fucking. You didn’t want to lose him if he didn’t feel the same way about you.

That’s no longer a concern anymore, and thank God for it. 

Harry moans, pulling you towards him by his grip on your throat. Your mouths meet hard, tongue and teeth clashing together in a way that feels dirty, messy and completely perfect. 

Separating, he rests his forehead against your own, your eyes locked on one another's as he continues to fuck up into you with all he has. The position he's got you in hits so deep, you swear you can feel him in your belly. You’re so full. So fed. So happy.

While he adds a little more pressure to your throat, his left hand leaves your hip to press against your lower stomach. You choke on your restricted breaths as he palms where his tip bulges, your whole body trembling and orgasm so close to wrecking you.

“Fuck.” Harry hisses, jaw clenched and teeth gritted, “Got me all the way up here, huh? S’it feel good for you, baby?”

“So good.” You hum, tone tight as you nod needily, “Swear your cock was made for me. Feels so right.”

Harry whimpers at that, "Fuck, it was. It does. Keep going, darling."

"Nobody's fucked me as good as you, ‘n I know nobody ever will again.” You pant, swallowing hard against his palm while you pull his cock in deeper with a squeeze of your cunt, “A match made in heaven, you and me."

"Fucking heaven." He mumbles and nods mindlessly, clearly as blissed-out as you are.

Your high now hits so hard that it almost pushes him out of you, but Harry fights to stay inside. He somehow fucks you even harder, and it’s to the point that you see white and scream his name with all you can muster.

And your orgasm triggers his. His body hunching and hot load painting your walls only extends the euphoria you’re experiencing. 

His hand on your throat remains tight, with yours in his hair the exact same as you moan into one another’s open mouths. If you weren’t pressed against the wall and somewhat held up by Harry, you’d be on the ground while your soul floats away. 

Your climax fades, but little aftershocks of it tingles your skin while you pant as breathlessly as he does. Both of you start laughing lightly and deliriously, like you’re both in disbelief over what just happened.

Harry pulls back, mouths separating so he can show you his grinning self properly, "I think I saw stars." 

You can't help but giggle at his comment, nodding slowly, “Me too." 

"We could get used to it, you know? Set up home amongst them… would be a pretty view all the time. What d'ya think?"

"I say let’s do it. It’s cheaper than what we pay for this shit hole we call a home, and waaaaay more fun to get to."

His louder laughter fills the air and warms your heart, "Can't say I disagree with you there, babe."

You hum at the kiss he presses to your forehead, but a hiss follows upon him slowly pulling out. Harry murmurs apologies, then gives your pouting lips from missing him inside of you already another quick peck as you feel his release trickling down your leg.

He steps back, greedy gaze on his come blurting out of your cunt. A filthy-sounding groan rumbles in his chest, a cheeky smirk stretching his lips as he meets your eyes again.

“Now that right there? That's the third prettiest view." 

Your brows stitch together in confusion, “Huh?”

"Second spot is the stars that our magical sex sent us to.” Harry elaborates quickly, grabbing the shower head and rinsing his release away, “First is your face."

And while you should blush, roll your eyes and try to fight a smile from his cute albeit cheeky compliment, you can’t. 

You feel anxious, because you two just fucked. Where you stand with one another needs to be talked about.

"Things aren't gonna be weird between us now… right?"

"Weirder than how we usually are or?"

“You know what I mean.” You send him a deadpan look, but it shifts to match the panic that twists your stomach, "You mean so much to me, H. I can't lose you, I just can't-”

“Hey, hey.” Harry is quick to cut you off, hanging the shower head up before he’s cupping your face, “That’s not gonna happen, babe. I fucking promise, okay? I’ve got you now and always. ‘M not going anywhere. Not without you, ‘n I want weird anyway.”

"What do you mean?" 

He sighs shakily, a look of nervousness across his face now. It's a look you never see from him. He's always so confident and put together.

"If things weren't weird now, it would mean that we're still just friends and that we went back to our normal after this." He hums, thumbs stroking circles against your skin, "I don't wanna be just friends anymore. I haven't wanted to be just friends for a long time."

"You haven't?" 

A shy head shake is his answer. You’ve got more questions to ask. 

"For how long?"

"Probably since the moment I met you."

Your mouth drops open in complete shock, "What the fuck, Harry?! Why didn't you say anything?!"

"You know me, love. I open up when I feel ready.” He chuckles, shrugging casually as he takes a subtle deep breath in and out, his smile brightening by the second, “I'm ready now, though. I'm sorry I took so long to be."

Your eyes dart between his, and you’re at a complete loss for words. There's no way you ever expected this to happen, for tonight to have gone the way it has. That you would hear Harry admit years-long feelings that he’s had. 

But it makes sense that he has. That you have, too. 

You're the perfect match in every way. You balance each other out completely. You know everything about each other. You love everything about each other, too; flaws and all. That's a rare thing to find.

And now, thinking about it, you’re glad you both waited until tonight to say, or do, a thing about your feelings. Building a foundation as strong as yours means that your future together will be all the more solid. 

Your mind jumps back to earlier on when you asked Harry why he was looking at you like he loved you, and he said it's because he does. You knew then that the look meant more than friendship, but you couldn’t quite figure out exactly what else it could be. Or perhaps you did know, but just wouldn’t let yourself believe it out of fear of heartbreak.

But now, you’re not afraid. You’re excited. And you’re looking back at Harry in the exact same way, for the exact same reason.

"You really love me, don't you?"

With a twinkle in his eyes, Harry lets that shy smile stretch wider. He knows you know now. He knows you feel it in the same way, too.

"More than anything." 

And upon him whispering those three little words that have the same effect as three other different ones, you just know that absolutely everything will be okay. 

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

“Yeah, you just take the bike down the hill and then the train. There’s a little grocery shop down the hill with like a coffee house too, but the nearest city is about an hour by train.” He casually explained.

“An hour?!” Eden shrieked, being ignored by her dad who simply kept walking. Eden tilted her head back with a groan, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You’ll love it here!” He shouted in an attempt to convince her. Eden rolled her eyes and took her bag, walking into the house behind him. Her nose scrunched up at the welcome-mat that said live, love, laugh! in front of the front door.

The coolness of the house welcomed Eden though as she stepped inside with her slippers on. She closed the heavy door behind her. The house was tiled in a reddish-brown colour, which was so typical for a house like this. 

Eden exhaled another breath as she carefully stepped in, following the shadow of her father. The house smelled like citrus, Eden noticed. It was fresh and clean and she clutched her bag around her shoulder. She turned the corner to be met with a small kitchen, Colleen by the counter with an apron on.

“Eden!” She gasped, opening her arms wide to hug the daughter of her partner. Eden forced a smile, “Colleen, hi.” She gently hugged her back as Colleen squeezed her painfully. Her bouncy blonde curls smothered Eden and her perfume was heavy in her nose.

Colleen’s arms felt tight around Eden and she let go a few seconds after Eden was already uncomfortable. She took a quick step back, having near forgotten how… smothering her stepmother was. Colleen was loud, bubbly and very present in any company. Eden was much more soft-spoken than her and preferred to sit in silence or by herself.

No matter how badly she tried to like Colleen – who essentially did nothing wrong – Eden almost felt like she was too kind. And no one could be that kind. Eden had to do nothing more but let out a little yelp as she stubbed her toe and Colleen was ready to drive her to the hospital.

And Eden felt somehow frustrated by it. And it frustrated her even more that she had no good reason to dislike Colleen who did her best to be liked by Eden, the only daughter of the man she loved and moved to Italy with.

“Welcome to our crib!” Her father grinned as he put her bags down and spread his arms, “Darling, we are so happy to have you here! You’re gonna have the summer of her life.”

Eden forced another smile.

When her father decided to move to Italy a few months ago, Eden had felt multiple emotions at one. She felt sad to be far away from him and not see him as much anymore. At the same time, she saw an opportunity. An opportunity for warm, Italian summers. An opportunity for a tan, lots of red wine, limoncello and Aperol Spritz by a pool as she strolled around little towns and met strangers in hot bars.

What she didn’t expect was a remote, little house with no sign of human life in sight.

Eden let her eyes glide around the house. It was full of personality, like her father had promised. She saw little touches of him and Colleen around the interior, but mostly they had adapted a very typical Italian style and left most of their personal belongings back in England. 

“Haven’t even been able to properly congratulate you on graduating.” Her father stood behind Eden, placing his hands on her shoulders. Eden felt a warmth spreading through her chest, welling up with pride as she breathed out a chuckle, turning around, “Thanks, dad.”

“A famous photographer in the family.” He joked and Eden blushed a little, a smile playing on her lips. Colleen smiled as she took the coffee pot in hand, “Any thoughts on what you’re going to do now?”

It was the inevitable question, and one that made Eden’s stomach clench. Her smile dropped immediately and her father shot her a sympathetic look, squeezing her shoulders again, “Eden will find her way. It’s summer break now after studying for years in a row. Freedom, hm? You deserve it.” He softly defended her. Colleen said nothing and Eden smiled at her father, “Yeah. Just a few weeks of uninterrupted sun.”

“You’ve come to the right address.” Her father smiled. Eden tried to feel excited, but standing in the house she was meant to spend a few months in, her enthusiasm deflated a tad. She rubbed the back of her neck, “I’ll just put my things upstairs?”

“Yeah, you can go explore.” Colleen waved her hand to the narrow stairs, “It’s upstairs to the left.”

“Thanks.” Eden softly smiled. She took one of her bags, leaving the other one downstairs for now. The stone steps didn’t creak like the stairs at the house in England did. The heat of the upstairs of the house greeted Eden as she reached the landing. 

The hallway was narrow as Eden took a left, glancing into the first room. It was quite the small room and was basically filled with boxes and storage, things her father and Colleen had yet to unpack. Eden exhaled a breath and continued, the second room being much more tidy.

It had a small double bed pushed against the wall opposite the window. White sheets covered the mattress and there was an old wooden dresser and a little desk in the corner. It wasn’t too decorated for the rest, but Eden enjoyed the simplicity of it. 

Walking into the room, she realized this was home for the next few months. And all of a sudden, a feeling of homesickness washed over her for no specific reason. She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank walls. Sun came through the cracked window. 

Coming to Italy for a few months after graduating was probably the most spontaneous thing Eden had ever done. But it was all fitting in with how she felt right now. Chaotic. 

All throughout college, Eden had one goal. Graduating. And it was as if she didn’t realize that she worked towards that for the longest time and once she finally reached it, it felt oddly… unsatisfying. 

She had reached that goal, and now there was just a big glob of nothingness, of no perspective, of just… empty. And Eden spiralled. While her friends enjoyed their graduation and their months of holidays and freedom and no more exams or deadlines, Eden bolted.

She broke up with her boyfriend, booked a ticket and left everything and everyone behind. And once again, coming to Italy was her perspective and her goal and now that she was here, it’s like she felt empty again. Eden bit her wobbling lip, overcome by emotions. And she sighed before leaning her elbows on her knees, “What the fuck are you doing.” She whispered to herself. 

The loud bark of a dog pulled Eden out of her thoughts, jumping up slightly from the noise. She narrowed her eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before getting up and walking up to the window.

The view from Eden’s window showed the narrow grass path that wrapped around the entire house, connecting the small front yard to the backyard. A fence separated their yard from the neighbour’s, which is where the dog was barking.

It wasn’t just one dog and Eden’s lips curled up into a smile. She saw a large border collie excitedly wagging its tail and jumping around the garden, playing with a much smaller Maltese dog attempting to keep up with the collie’s pace.

Admittedly, the neighbour had the house on the street that everyone wanted and the one Eden was currently in, was like its ugly sibling. It was about double the size of her father’s and Colleen’s house and the yard was even bigger. And to top it off, the house had a pool.

One glance into the backyard of their own house and Eden winced under her breath, realizing there was no pool here. Her chest sunk a bit as she exhaled, really trying to see a silver lining here.

Deciding Eden had to get out of the mood she was in, she simply put her bags down and opened one up, pulling out a pair of denim shorts to change out of her jeans and be a little less dressed in these hot temperatures. 

She put on a pair of slippers and redid the clip in her hair, hopping down the stairs again. Her father and Colleen were talking in the kitchen and Eden walked past them, offering a brief smile before her hand reached for the doorknob to find the garden, “I’m just going to check out the garden.” She spoke.

Colleen glanced at her father, who simply nodded and let his daughter exit the house.

The hot, humid air of southern Italy hit Eden’s face after leaving the coolness of the house. She did inhale a deep breath though, feeling as if she needed it. The grass underneath her feet was crispy from the heat and crickets could be heard all around. The house had a beautiful view of the hill with a bunch of grape vines. The little town could be seen from here, all the way at the bottom of the hill.

Eden put her hands on her hips and looked around, her face lighting up when she saw the two dogs again out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh, hi.” Eden cooed, walking towards the fence. The border collie excitedly wagged its tail, jumping up a little as Eden approached. She crouched down, smiling at both dogs who panted and continued running circles. The smaller Maltese stayed close and Eden put her hand through the fence to pet its head. 

“Hey!” A voice made her jump up and Eden quickly rose to her feet, seeing a man emerge from the house next door. 

The dogs quickly approached him, circling around his legs. He wore a pair of bright blue shorts and a large white button-up, sunglasses on his nose and no shoes on. 

“Oh.” Eden swallowed, “M-Mi scusi signore.”

The man continued walking up to her, a thick frown embedded in his forehead, “Shit.” Eden muttered to herself, fiddling with her fingers, “Stavo solo osservando i – uh… i tuoi cani.” She tried in her best italian, “Mi dispiace. Non… non avrei…” She stuttered before exhaling, “fuck, I don’t know how to say that in italian.”

“Your Italian is shit.” His voice sounded deep as he stood a little bit away from her, his hands on his hips.

Eden exhaled a sigh of relief, “Oh, you’re British? Thank god.”

He didn’t respond and Eden cleared her throat, “Like I was attempting to say,” she chuckled, “I shouldn’t have just touched your dogs. I’m sorry. They just looked very cute.”

The man took a step closer and flicked his eyes to his border collie, “Did you give them any food?”

“Food?” Eden raised her brows, “No, I didn’t.”

“Good. They’re not allowed food from strangers.”

There was a moment of silence between them and Eden’s eyes dragged up his body. She saw tan legs, scribbly tattoos around his knees and muscles that bulged without him even flexing. 

“I-I just moved here, by the way.” Eden pointed her thumb to the house behind her, “I’m sure you’ve met my father and step mother. I’m Eden.” She extended her hand to shake his. He hesitated for a moment before stepping up to her, “You moved in? You live here?” He checked.

Eden used her free hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, “Yeah, for the summer. I think. I haven’t really decided yet.” She shrugged before nibbling her lip. He swallowed and also extended his hand, shaking hers, “Harry.” He introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you.” Eden smiled. “And sorry again.”

“That’s alright.” His voice sounded a bit softer, all the anger having disappeared from him all of a sudden. Harry even put his sunglasses up in his hair and more of his face came into view. Mossy green eyes met her dark brown ones. The slight wrinkles by his eyes indicated that he was a little older than her. Harry had chestnut hair that was wavy on top of his head. 

Eden’s eyes dropped to the moustache above his top lip. She fought her blush, realising that the man in front of her was plain gorgeous and she just got off a flight and didn’t wear any make-up. 

“So – uh, have you lived here long? Or just vacationing? Since you’re British.” Eden tried to start a conversation. Harry’s attention went back to his dog circling his legs, his palm brushing the head of the border collie, “A while, yeah. And no, not vacationing. I live here full-time.”

“Oh.” Eden nodded at the information, “Your house is really nice.” Her gaze drifted to the house behind Harry before darting to the pool. She offered him a small smile, “Perhaps you could show me around a little bit?”

Harry glanced at her, tilting his head to the side, “Show you around?”

“Yeah.” Eden casually shrugged. She popped her hip out and pushed her chest up a little, “Or I could go for a walk with your dogs if you want me to. It’s not like I have anything to do here.”

Harry just stared at her for a bit and Eden felt her heartbeat increasing at the depth of his gaze. It felt like he could see right through her and her flirting ways. As a last resort, she shifted on her feet a bit, “Or if you’d ever be so kind to let me take a dip in your pool on a hot day, that’d be appreciated.”

“A dip in my pool?” He questioned with raised brows, a hint of amusement to his voice. Eden breathed out a chuckle, biting her lip again before shrugging, “Yes. It’s not like you can take a dip in mine.”

Harry felt himself near choking on a breath, her words having a clear double meaning and it seemed like Eden realised it too, gauging his reaction. Harry swiftly licked his lip as he exhaled, “We’d have to be acquainted for that. I don’t really invite strangers into my house.”

“Well, we are acquainted, aren’t we? You know my name, I know yours. We shook hands.” Eden tried to joke and Harry narrowed his eyes again, trying to analyse Eden. She was… flirting with him. Bold. 

“We’ll see.” He ended up muttering, offering her a small smirk, “You might have to try a little harder than that to be acquainted.”

Eden batted her lashes, “If you’d let me.”

There was silence between them, both staring at the other. Harry was intrigued, for sure. She didn’t have a shy mouth and she was pretty for sure. But he also knew it was a bad idea. Just as he thought that, the back door of Eden’s house opened, her father – Ron – popping his head out, “Darling? Dinner’s ready.” He called for her, giving Harry a stiff, polite nod.

“Yep.” Eden smiled at him before turning back to Harry, “So, I’ll see you around?”

He softly cleared his throat, “Sure.” It was nothing but a mumble, hardly convincing himself. If she was Ron’s daughter, she couldn’t be older than… twenty-five. Chances were she was a bit younger even. And he was well in his thirties. 

With that, Eden turned around and headed back into the house. Harry couldn’t help but stare at her ass before exhaling a breath, shaking his head to himself. A young, hot new neighbour wasn’t in his cards for the summer.

“C’mon, girl.” He scratched Sadie over her head, the border collie still circling his legs before they also headed back inside.

“Sooo…” Eden spoke as she pulled back the chair at the table to have her first dinner in Italy with her father and Colleen, “I met the neighbour.”

“We noticed.” Her father mumbled, “sounds like he said more to you in those few minutes than he’s done to us in months.”

Eden raised her brows, “Really?”

Colleen scooped the spaghetti up on her plate, “Mhm. He’s a bit quiet. Which is alright, you know. Rather a quiet neighbour than a bad one.”

“True. But he’s… I don’t know.” Eden’s father shrugged, “He’s unfriendly almost. Like… moody. Every time he says hi or smiles, it’s forced. And he’s always on his own. It’s just weird.”

“He’s just a bit of a loner.” Colleen defended Harry as she sent Ron a slight scowl. Eden started eating her spaghetti, “What does he do for a living?”

Ron shrugged, “See? It’s things like that, that we don’t know. That’s not normal. We have no idea what he does for a living or if he even works. He’s here all the time.”

“Well, maybe he’s got some underlying health issues like you.” Eden softly spoke up, carefully eyeing her dad. Eden’s father had multiple heart attacks in the past which is why he was unfit to work another day in his life. He got paid by the government instead until he retired. Colleen had inherited the entire fortune of her deceased husband who had no other family and they had no children.

Colleen shot Eden a wink, “Exactly. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That man just likes being by himself and he’s not the most sociable person. That’s no crime.”

“Still, I think he’s bad news.” He kept his ground, “So I’d really prefer you not hanging out with him or anything.”

Eden rolled her eyes, “Dad, seriously. I know I’m living in your house right now but I’m twenty-four. You can’t just tell me who I can or can’t talk to.” 

Ron just mumbled something under his breath and ate his food as Eden chewed slowly, her thoughts with Harry. Tanned skin, tattoos visible through the white linen of his large shirt, deep green eyes. She kept seeing him and her legs near jittered to go back to the fence and continue talking to him.

He was gorgeous, so, so attractive. And Eden had an instant crush. 

Later that night, the fatigue of the flight and travel caught up to her and she tiredly moved up the stairs. Her father had brought her bags up a bit earlier but Eden near fell asleep in front of the television before hauling herself upstairs. 

The ventilator in her room was a gift from the heavens as she sat down on the mattress and exhaled a heavy sigh. She stifled a yawn and undid the clip in her hair, running her hand through it. Once Eden got up to close the blinds, she paused in front of the window.

Because there, separated by two little lawns and a fence, she could see Harry through the window in his house. Eden tilted her head to the side, wondering if it was his bedroom. And what it looked like. And if he spent the majority of the time there by himself.

As if on cue – or alerted by the light on in Eden’s room – Harry’s head shot up. He wore the same clothes as earlier and squinted for a bit, making Eden chuckle. She smiled softly and lifted her hand in a wave, noticing Harry breathing out a chuckle before he mimicked the move and waved back.

Maybe summer here would be more fun than expected after all.

***

Harry couldn’t think straight.

It had been a week. A full fucking week of tossing and turning in his bed as he had his mind with Eden. For some stupid reason. She was pretty, sure. But Harry knew there was one more thing about her which is why he couldn’t get her out of his head, yet refused to admit it.

He refused to admit he couldn’t get her out of his head because she was unattainable.

She was at least ten years younger than him and the last thing he needed was yet another woman misreading signals and assuming they were in a serious relationship before he inevitably broke her heart again because love just wasn’t in the cards for him.

Not that he was so hurt by someone it couldn’t happen anymore, but Harry just wasn’t a romantic. People bothered him quickly and he always preferred to be on his own. He sometimes liked dating someone, but after a while they always wanted more. And he could never give it to them.

For most people, it was normal. You like someone, you hang out with them and at a certain point you want to be with them all the time. That point never came for Harry. He liked hanging out but somehow always felt a sense of relief when they left. He just preferred living by himself and controlling when or where he met up with someone.

Which is why he didn’t date, he just fucked. And even then – when he clearly stated beforehand that he wasn’t looking for a relationship – he always ended up being the asshole who broke their hearts. 

He couldn’t exactly have a casual fling or a one night stand with the girl who lived next door. Especially because her father always shot him dirty looks and it’d get out. And Harry really liked this house and didn’t want to move. Not even one bit.

He didn’t miss England anyway. He didn’t miss anyone or anything, he never had. Moving countries on his own was the easiest decision ever. The only thing he took with him, were both his dogs.

His finger mindlessly scratched underneath Lola’s little chin, the fluffy Maltese on the bed with him as he stared up at the ceiling fan. 

The worst part is that he had seen her all week. Every morning, she jogged past his house and down the hill to get her workout in. Skimpy shorts and a sport’s bra, he could see her physique and forced himself not to drool. And every evening, he saw her through the window. Her waves got a little more spontaneous before she closed the blinds and the lights turned off.

And then he laid in bed, thinking of her. She was forbidden fruit and it only made him want her more. The more he told himself he couldn’t, the more he wondered what she was like.

So luck would have it that when Harry decided to clear his head and walk down to the little village for some groceries, Eden just exited her house in a sundress and slippers, a tote bag over her shoulder.

“Hi!” She bubbled, waving at him. Harry winced under his breath, wondering if he could just… slip back inside his house and leave her be. If he could pretend he wasn’t on his way down and came up with an excuse to not go with her – because he knew that’s what she’d ask.

Eden approached him with a soft smile. Her hair was back in a little butterfly clip and she pushed her funky green sunglasses up in her hair, “Are you also going to the village?”

Harry exhaled a breath, running his fingers through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Oh, great. Me too. Trying to brave the heat by going before noon.” Eden seemed to near have a skip in her step, her excitement and spontaneity something Harry had to get used to. He was by himself so often, he just was used to calm and quiet. Eden was like a hurricane, bubbly and very present. He noticed immediately that when they had walked a few steps, her mouth just didn’t close.

“So how did you end up here?” The inevitable question came and Harry stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts. His worn-out Vans slid over the gravel road they were walking down on and he kept a bit of a distance from Eden. Not that he couldn’t inhale her citrus-smelling shampoo from a mile away. She smelled fresh and soft and he forced his thoughts to stay pure. The same way he forced his eyes to not focus on the deep V-line of her sundress that showed off the swells of her breasts and he had even gotten a peek at the lace border of her bra. The same way he focussed his eyes not to stare at the length of her legs when a gust of wind exposed the slit in her right leg to bare most of her thigh.

Instead he just shrugged, “Prefer it here. The weather’s nice, food’s good, people are okay. And the dogs love it here.”

“Hm.” Eden nodded, “And do you work here?”

“My companies are based in London. I own a few but I don’t actively work in them anymore. I appointed different COO’s to do that for me, so I can stay here.”

Eden found herself impressed. He couldn’t be older than thirty-five yet here he was, basically retiring in Italy with his two dogs. He owned multiple companies but didn’t work, just made the money for it.

“And you’re only here for the summer?” He changed the subject. To be fair, it was awkward as fuck between him and Eden. Yet she didn’t even seem to pick up on that, telling stories with wide hand gestures in all her excitement while he was slowly dying inside because he wanted to drag her in a bush and kiss her stupid.

She nodded at his question, “Mhm. I think. I mean, I can stay longer if I want to, it’s not like I have anything or anyone waiting for me.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I just graduated and I’m not sure what to do in life, so…”

“What degree do you have?”

“Photography.” 

“Hm.” Harry hummed, “’S a tough field.”

“Sure is.”

It was silent again before he spoke up, “So what kind of photography do you do?”

“So I started out doing portraits but… I don’t know, over the years I just realized I’m better at motion pictures. So things that move, lots of light and people around. Like in clubs or something. I’d really like to be a tour photographer maybe. All of last year I was at this strip club every week to take pictures, that was fun too.”

Harry frowned, “At a strip club?”

“Yeah, like for advertising. I like to take these sort of blurry pictures. So for stripping, that was amazing. Because it’s not too naked or provocative, but more so erotic and artsy. It’s what the owner was looking for so I was in there one night every weekend for the website and socials and stuff.” Eden explained.

He didn’t really say anything, but soaked in the information. Their walk continued in silence until reaching the village, Eden fanning herself with her hand as they slowly strolled around. The markets were still up and so Harry and Eden each took their turn in ordering a few things.

“Red wine?” Harry questioned as Eden put the bottle in her bag. She curled her lips inside her mouth, “Mhm. Dad and Colleen are out tonight, they’re going to this play. So I have the house to myself and I’m cooking and drinking and listening to Arctic Monkeys.”

“Try to keep the volume down.” Harry mumbled, signalling the vendor that he wanted to buy some fish. Eden snorted under her breath, “Yes, dad.”

Harry rolled his eyes and made his order before looking at Eden over his shoulder, “Are you always such a brat?”

“When it’s called for.” She sweetly responded before taking a step closer to Harry again, “But trust me, most of the time I’m really good and do as I’m told.” Her voice took a near purring hint and Harry’s ears turned pink from the way her eyes dropped to his lips before she bit hers and turned around, walking up to where they sold the fruit.

Harry accepted the fish he purchased and strolled behind her, nodding at the vendor as Eden made her purchase of some cubes of watermelon.

“Want some?” She turned around and offered Harry one but he shook his head, “No, thanks.”

Eden shrugged, popping a cold cube of watermelon into her mouth with a soft moan, “Wow, that’s good.”

They eventually moved to sit on a bench, overlooking a square. Harry’s heartbeat bounced as Eden sat close to him, still slowly eating the watermelon. He saw a drop of the juice running down her chin and his fingers dug into his thigh to stop himself from scooping it up. 

Eden couldn’t help but behave this way around him. She hadn’t missed the way he looked at her and there was no denying the clear sexual tension between them. She couldn’t get him out of her head, so maybe one night together was just all it took to soothe that ache and have her moving on. So she flirted, and flirted, and flirted some more.

Harry didn’t exactly seem to pick up what she was putting down, but watching her now as she ate the fruit, he near seemed in pain. And Eden loved it. She swept her tongue over her bottom lip as she finished the jar of watermelon and then turned to Harry, “How long have you lived in Italy for?”

“Couple of years.” He responded, taking a sip of the water bottle he had brought. He stretched his legs out, ankles hooked over one another as he leaned back into the bench, soaking up some sun. Eden slowly nodded at his words, “And do you like it here? Or are you just wanted by the police in England or something?”

Harry chuckled, “Not wanted by the police. Just wanted some peace and quiet and it’s not like I left many people behind. I fly back every now and then but decided to come live here full-time about six years ago.”

“And you’ve always lived in that house on the hill?”

“Yep.” He nodded before clearing his throat, “How about you? Are you having fun here?”

“It’s… yeah.” Eden carefully spoke, nibbling her lip. Harry let her take her time and eventually she took a breath, “I just feel like it’s not really the solution to my problem. I thought I’d get more clarity here but in honesty, I’m just running. Graduating is fun and all, but I just feel insanely lost at this moment, and I have no idea what I want to do with my life whereas it seems like everyone around me does.”

Harry hummed, “Trust me, lots of people are faking that.”

“Maybe.” Eden leaned back a little more, her leg swinging a little as she continued, “It’s like I had a bit of a crisis and needed a complete change, thinking it was going to solve everything. But my problems are still here, only now I’m in the sun in Italy.”

“Seems as good a spot as any to think about life.” Harry offered and Eden smiled, “Mhm. I just got sick of my friends all knowing exactly how their life was going to pan out. Some had insane plans for the summer, wanting to do festivals and parties and I’m usually one for that but I just skipped it all this year and came here instead. Even dumped my boyfriend. Just… a completely new start.”

Harry turned his head to face her, “You dumped your boyfriend? How long were you together for?”

Eden puckered her pink lips in thought, “Probably a little over a year, so not that long.”

“Was he a dick?”

“No.” Eden chuckled, shaking her head, “He was nice. We just… didn’t end up having that much in common. Like I was attracted to him and he was attracted to me and the sex was so amazing, but there wasn’t much more than that.”

Harry found himself slightly surprised. It was his issue with any partner ever. The sex was great, the emotional connection just wasn’t there. At least not for him. With Harry though, it never lasted over a year. And especially when he still lived in London, word just got around and no one really wanted to go on a date with him anymore. He was labelled a player and a heartbreaker.

“I mean, sex is an important part of any relationship.” Harry argued softly, “But I suppose it needs more than that.”

Eden nodded in agreement, “It does. But it is an important part.” Her eyes flicked to him, “You know… You could join me this evening. I’ve got plenty of stuff to cook for two.” She innocently shrugged.

Harry exhaled shakily, “For two, hm?” He tilted his head to the side, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Eden softly smiled, tipping her head back to catch some sun while simultaneously pushing her tits out. Harry quickly looked away and Eden shrugged, “But you know, always welcome at the house of Eden. You know what it means, right?”

Harry swallowed, “What?”

“Place of pleasure and delight.” She murmured. 

Harry tried to control the shaking of his leg, flicking his eyes back to her to notice she was staring right back at him already, an amused look on her face. Harry held his composure, staring back, “Is it?”

“You have no idea.”

Harry didn’t respond and Eden nibbled her lip, “Unless – of course – you have a partner or something to get back to, or that you already made plans with.”

“I don’t have a partner.” Harry muttered and Eden arched up a brow, “Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because,” Eden shrugged, “you seem like the person men and women throw themselves at.”

“I am.” Harry agreed before a small smirk formed on his lips, “I guess I’m just hard to please.”

Eden wanted to moan. 

Her tummy clenched as she stared back at him. They were close together and she really, really wanted to dip her head and kiss him. It seemed like they had a bit of a power play going on, because Harry now held the upper hand. It was clear in everything. The cocky smirk, the easy eyes, the comfortable position he had.

And Eden wanted control back, “How do you like to be pleased?” She purred.

“I like to be pleased by someone who doesn’t have a smart mouth and doesn’t behave like a brat.” He instantly fired back. Eden held her breath, excitement running through her veins, “So you like control?”

Harry didn’t respond but his lip twitched slightly, his smirk growing. And Eden mirrored him, batting her lashes as she scooted even closer, their thighs touching, “Good. I like being controlled.”

Their eye contact was heavy until Harry turned his head, shaking his head softly with a smirk playing on his lips, “Something tells me you don’t.”

Eden near crawled up on his lap, “Only one way to find out.”

“We really shouldn’t.” Harry stayed level-headed, shaking his head at her. Eden was a little taken aback but rolled her lips inside of her mouth, “Okay.”

“Not that I don’t want to.” Harry shrugged, never really passing on an opportunity for casual sex with a girl as pretty as Eden, who then also was witty and quick on her feet and made his stomach flutter in anticipation. He could picture her with little horns on and he’d take much pleasure in taking her down a peg in the bedroom. She could be a challenge.

But there were too many red flags and Harry had to be the responsible adult. There was an undeniable attraction for sure, but acting it out wouldn’t be a good idea.

Eden could see the hesitation in his eyes and worried she maybe came off too strong. She had to admit that coming to live in Italy, she expected to be closer to a city so she could go out and party and bring home whoever she pleased to have the summer of her life. The only thing here was a very hot neighbour who then apparently refused to go there with her.

And Eden had an itch that needed scratching.

She exhaled shakily, “Well, if you change your mind… you know where to find me.”

***

And Harry was on the fucking verge of changing his mind. If Eden had been on the forefront of his thoughts the past week, it definitely hadn’t gotten any better after their little conversation on the bench. 

She liked being controlled and she wanted to please him. Harry came home to put his hand down his pants and rub one out, finishing embarrassingly fast after all the built-up tension. And she fucking knew what she was doing. She knew he was lusting after her, that he found her hot and sexy and that he was attracted to her.

In a way, she was playing him. Acting innocent but being a little devil deep down. They hardly knew anything about one another but somehow they didn’t care to. It was physical and that was that. Harry didn’t need that emotional connection and Eden just wanted to get laid. Still, it was a fucking bad idea. She’d be here the rest of the summer and Harry couldn’t predict how she’d behave. Either she’d start behaving like his girlfriend and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of her, or she’d give him the cold shoulder which would turn things just plain awkward.

Furthermore, he never wanted her father and stepmother to find out she had fucked her much older neighbour. Even if he didn’t necessarily have a connection to them either, they were still neighbours. Harry took it into account, how perhaps one day he’d need to drop off his dogs for an emergency. He needed the reassurance that he could count on them.

He lived a quiet, secluded life here and in no way wanted to fuck that up.

But it wasn’t easy when she behaved like that. Prancing around her room with hardly any clothing on, knowing full well he could see her. 

All throughout the evening, he had snuck glances. Walking his dog for the final time that day, he passed by her house to notice the car being gone. Music came from inside, just soft beats which was not what he had expected. He could imagine her dancing around the house with a bottle of wine in her hand in just her panties. 

And so Harry stopped himself from knocking the door to go back into his own house and brood some more.

Shit like this always happened. He met someone, got borderline obsessed with them, fucked them and then it was all over. 

And so Harry decided to go to sleep and just get her out of his head. Tiredly, he dragged himself up the stairs and into his bedroom, instantly glancing out the window to see if Eden was there perhaps. He was met with a darkened room on her end, and so he walked around to get ready for bed. 

By the time he was back in front of his window to close the blinds, his heart near stopped when he noticed her lights were on too. Squinting, Harry could faintly see Eden moving around the bedroom. In lace underwear and nothing else. She held a glass of red wine in her hand that was almost done, and she finished it in one sip before putting it down somewhere.

With her back to him, she then climbed up on her bed.

Harry held his breath, seeing the curve of her behind as she pushed her ass out, on her knees on the bed. 

He should’ve looked away, and he knew it. But he was in a trance. In a trance when Eden sat up and split her thighs over one of the pillows she grabbed. He was in a trance when she tipped her head bac and her hips rolled on their own accord. He was in a trance when she was humping the pillow to get herself off. 

Harry gulped thickly, watching the way her body rocked itself into the pillow. Eden leaned forward to arch her back but flipped her hair back, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets as she sped up a little bit.

He could see the curling of her toes as she continued riding the pillow, her body moving itself in sultry waves. She threw her head back again, espresso-coloured locks casting down her back as her mouth was open. Harry wondered if she was moaning. Whimpering. Screaming.

He stood completely frozen, watching the girl in the neighbouring house ride herself to an orgasm and before he knew it, his hand was in his pants and Harry wrapped his fingers around his aching shaft. His breaths turned short as he pulled in languid motions from base to swollen tip, speeding up when he noticed her speeding up.

His heart stopped for a short moment when Eden seemed to look at him over her shoulder, but she quickly diverted her eyes again and continued. She leaned back now, hands cupping her own tits as she ground down into the pillow harder.

“Fuck.” Harry whispered, tugging his cock. The house of Eden, a place of pleasure and delight. An fucking hell, it really was.

And as Eden shuddered and shook and her hands turned white from gripping the sheets, Harry finished inside his boxers. He moaned, feeling the pulsing of his erection as he spurted out cum into his pants. His bicep bulged and he hissed through his teeth, trembling on his knees.

Eden seemed to slum down, her chest heaving as she relaxed, her thighs still shivering. Even if Harry’s vision was slightly blurry, it felt like he could see all of her very up close for some reason. Every detail, every ridge, line and bump of her. All the curves, freckles, dips and every clench of her muscles.

He stayed in a trance for a moment longer until Eden moved, and right as she turned around, Harry ducked behind the wall to hide himself. His breaths were heavy and he didn’t dare looking. In fact, he slid down to a seated position against the wall and waited at least ten minutes. With filthy pants, a filthy hand and his heart hammering in his chest. When he finally dared having a look, Eden’s blinds were closed and her room was dark.

***

“So how was the play?” Eden asked as she sipped coffee in the morning. 

Colleen and her father had returned in the early hours of the morning after Eden had long gone to sleep. She didn’t hear them return, her mind too dazed on the wine and her orgasm to hear or sense anything. 

“Really good!” Colleen chirped, “We had fun, stayed for a drink.”

“Hey – uh, Tony said he saw you and the neighbour at the market?” Her father questioned as he bit his toast. Eden lifted her eyes, “Who’s Tony?”

“He sells fish down in the village. Said he saw you two together.”

She frowned, a thick crevice etched between her brows while putting her mug down, “Are you spying on me?”

“What?” Her father chuckled, “Of course not, honey. He was there too and asked how we were, I said my daughter moved to town for a few weeks or months and he recognized you. New people are a big deal here, Eden. It’s a small town so everyone knows everyone.”

Eden rolled her eyes, “So what if I went to the market with him? We happened to be going in the same direction.”

“I’ve told you before, I’d prefer you to stay away from him.” Ron frowned, “He’s too mysterious.”

“He’s not mysterious.” Eden laughed, staring at her father in disbelief, “You just don’t know him.”

“Oh, and you do?! Eden, he’s literally ten years older than you.”

“What’s that got to do with anything.” She challenged and Ron clenched his jaw, “He’s too old to be your friend or whatever you want him to be.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Whatever I want him to be?” She repeated, pressing her lips together, “Why don’t you just call me a whore while you’re at it?”

“Eden!” He yelled and she raised her brows, “Hm? Seriously, what is the big deal with me having a fucking conversation with the neighbour? Did he piss on your flowers or something? You’re acting like we’re about to get married.”

He let out an aggravated breath, “Enough! It’s seriously impossible to have a bloody normal conversation with you.” He then got up to his feet, “As long as you live under this roof, you’ll do as I say! Or you can just go back to your mother!”

Eden felt like she got punched in the throat, staring up at him in horror. He was breathing heavily, glaring at her while Colleen stood off to the side, holding her breath.

“Seriously?” Eden muttered and he took a breath, “Seriousl-“

“Well, seriously fuck off!” Eden yelled, pushing her chair back before storming up the stairs. Her blood pumped through her body in rage as she harshly slammed the door of her bedroom, feeling fucking seventeen again.

The divorce between her parents was something that would forever haunt Eden. Ever since her mum and dad broke up, she felt like she didn’t belong anywhere. Her mum’s house didn’t feel like home, this didn’t feel like home.

And him saying that, just poured salt in a fresh wound that was attempting to heal up. Eden felt like an intruder everywhere. Her mum had a new boyfriend, her father had Colleen. He had sounded excited when she asked to spend the summer here, and after hardly one fucking week he had told her to go back to her mother.

Who would tell her to go back to her father.

Eden needed fresh air, so after changing into a bikini and putting a cap on top of her head, she headed back downstairs. She avoided the kitchen and living room at all costs, sneaking out the side to find a spot in the garden to tan a little bit. She had a book with her, and headphones to close off the outside world. Perhaps that way, she could pretend she was by herself.

The blue of the water in Harry’s pool looked inviting, but Eden knew better than to jump his fence and claim his garden for her own. She found a corner of the garden where no windows could spot her. She’d let her father think she was brooding in her room until he was ready to come apologize to her. 

And if he didn’t, she’d look for a flight tomorrow.

Eden had only been sitting down for about ten minutes until she heard a splash from the side. Sitting up in the sunbed, she squinted her eyes to see waves in Harry’s pool. Only seconds later, his head came up as he shook his hair out and puffed out a breath. 

His tanned skin glistened in the droplets, sunlight brightening him up. His two dogs excitedly jumped in the pool too, making an even larger splash. Eden peeked through the bushes to see him grinning and playing around a little.

His smile was beautiful, she felt. 

Last night when he looked at her through his window, he wasn’t smiling though. Eden could be mistaken, but if she wasn’t, it’d mean he was jerking off while she was humping a pillow. His lips had been parted, his brow scrunched up in delight. The rhythmic bulging of his bicep could mean he was stroking himself, but Eden hadn’t seen anything below his hips.

If she was correct, Harry had seen everything. And she had wanted him to.

She had sat waiting for him for the largest portion of the evening, hoping he’d come knocking on her door to fuck her into oblivion. Instead, she drank wine and danced around the house, enjoying being by herself for once. And he never showed up, so she decided to let him see what he had been missing out on.

Harry stayed in the pool for a little longer until hoisting himself out. Eden drooled at the sight of his back, so many muscles flexing and making him look absolutely incredible. Harry reached for a towel off to the side of the pool as his dogs also climbed out. He turned around, and the view made Eden’s throat even more dry.

Tattoos, so many of them. A well-defined six-pack of abs. The cross pendant glimmering in the sunlight and resting between small curls of chest hair against his sternum. He was ripped and so fucking gorgeous. Eden hardly realized she was clenching her thighs together as she stared at him.

Harry wrapped a towel around himself and shook out his hair at the same time his dogs shook out their manes. It was a funny sight, the three of them coordinated like that.

And Eden was too horny to let the moment go by, so she got up her feet, “Hi.” She spoke.

Harry was actually rather close to her, but Eden had been hidden by the bushes. He flicked his eyes up, towel wrapped around himself to dry off. He licked his lip, putting on his sunglasses, “Hey.” His voice sounded raspy and the real reason Harry put on his glasses was to check her out without giving anything away.

Eden was in a two-piece. A dark blue one, at that. Matching his own swimming shorts. The panties looked like they were a thong, bands sitting high up on her hips and nothing but a small triangle covering up between her legs.

Her tits near spilled out of the top, a simple bandeau bikini for minimal tan lines which also pressed her chest up more. She looked fucking delicious. 

“Getting a tan?” He asked, slowly walking over to her, the fence once more separating them. Eden scratched the back of her neck, “Yeah, something like that. You too?”

“Mhm. ‘M behind the house on the other side so I can hide beneath the trees a little bit. Full sun is too hot.” He explained, pointing to where Eden could see just a tiny sliver of one of the sunbeds on the other side of the house, hidden from the house she lived in for now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eden fanned herself, “it is very hot. Our garden doesn’t really have any shade.”

Harry shifted on his feet a bit, “I take it you don’t want to go back inside either? I heard shouting earlier.”

She huffed out, pressing her lips together before shaking her head, “Nope.”

“I have an extra sunbed, if you want. You can swim too, cool off a little bit.” It was out before he realized it, but Harry realized he really was in no fit state to talk normally to her when she stood like that in front of him.

Eden raised her brows, “Really? Oh my god, I’d love that.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. Let me just,” she turned around and Harry’s eyes dropped to her ass, seeing that it was indeed a thong. He groaned under his breath as Eden picked up the few things she brought. Her book, a towel, headphones and sunglasses. Her slippers were on her feet and she casually threw all of her stuff over the fence.

Harry chuckled as she then put her foot up on one of the wooden bars, “Wait, let me –“ He stepped closer, holding out his hands as Eden gracefully climbed the fence, accepting his hands before she jumped over. Her tits jiggled and she offered him a breathy grin, “Thanks.”

Bending down to retrieve her things again, Harry swallowed thickly. He snuck a glance behind him and led Eden to where the sunbeds were. “D’you want anything to drink?” He checked.

“What’re you having?” Eden took a seat on the free sunbed next to Harry’s after brushing off some fallen leaves. The dogs were sniffling around her legs and she gently petted them as Harry put on a flannel to cover himself up a little bit. It was checkered and he left it open, running his fingers through his hair to comb his wet locks back a little bit, “Sangria.”

“Sounds good.” Eden smiled, her eyes not so subtly drawn to his torso and his chiselled abs. Harry nodded and stepped inside of the house to get her some sangria, giving himself a small pep-talk in the meantime where he vowed to stay strong and not succumb to the flirting ways of Eden. Not even after secretly watching her masturbate the night before.

“Thank you.” Eden smiled as Harry handed her the glass and sat down on the sunbed next to hers again. They were shielded by some trees and off to the side of his house, facing the other direction than Eden’s house. No one could really see them here in Harry’s little side garden, which was the perfect spot for some sun and shade.

“They’re not bothering you too much?” Harry nudged his head in the direction of his two very excited dogs. Eden smiled and shook her head, “Absolutely not. I love dogs. What’re their names?”

Harry leaned back a bit, “Sadie is the big one and Lola is the small one.”

“That’s cute.” Eden murmured, scratching both dogs before taking a sip of her sangria, “Are you sure I can take a dip in your pool? I’m honestly so hot.”

“Mhm, of course. Just don’t piss in it.” He joked and Eden threw her head back in a laugh, Harry smiling along as she giggled, “That’s the first time I’ve heard you making a joke.” She teased, getting up from her seat. Harry’s eyes were glued to her ass as Eden walked up to the side of the pool, graciously diving in. 

All he could think of when watching her body, was how she moved when fucking that pillow last night. Delicate lace hugging her figure as she rocked back and forth and touched her own chest, looking so… seductive and sexy.

He took a breather, drinking more sangria as he lounged on the sunbed, hearing Eden splashing around the pool as the dogs joined her. He heard her giggles as she spoke softly to his dogs, petting them. Harry hastily took another sip, downing his glass. He felt blood rushing to his cock, especially when Eden got back out of the pool. She kicked a ball to occupy the dogs before making her way back over to Harry, water dripping down her body.

Harry’s throat ran dry as he diverted his eyes, clearing his throat and pretending to glance at his phone for a bit. Eden stood in front of him, wringing out her hair before tucking it behind her ears. Even just being in the sun for a few seconds, it was like she couldn’t remember the coolness of the water she just came out of.

Or it was Harry’s presence making her feel that hot.

“Your pool is heavenly.” She exhaled. Harry offered her a brief smile but didn’t exactly look at her. Eden put her hands on her hips, “You can look, you know?”

Harry pressed his lips together, shaking his head softly, “I think it’d be inappropriate.”

“But it wasn’t inappropriate last night?”

His head shot up in shock, a hint of pink rising up his neck and his cheeks as he stared at her. Eden smirked softly, “I saw you.” She took a step closer to Harry, eventually sitting down on the sunbed with him. She was so close, he could feel the coolness of her body from the water radiating to his warm skin.

Harry swallowed and tipped his head to the side, analysing Eden until it clicked for him. He narrowed his eyes, “You did that for me?”

“You enjoyed the show, didn’t you?” Eden murmured, scooting a little closer. Harry held his breath, the new information seeping into his brain. She knew he was watching, she wanted him to watch. She did that, knowing he was looking at her through his window.

“You’re insane.” He lowly mumbled and Eden bit her lip, “Well, I was waiting for you.”

“Eden.” Harry warned as she moved, lifting up to sit down on his thighs, straddling him on the sunbed. She pouted, something that made Harry’s heart skip ten beats. With the sun shining behind her, she looked absolutely angelic. The tiny bikini did a shit job at covering her up and her wet skin quickly dried from the temperatures.

“Why not?” She whispered, “I want it, you want it. Just… just once.”

Harry let out a breath and leaned back, swallowing thickly, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “Are you lying to me?”

“No.” She quickly shook her head, “I promise. Twenty-four.”

Harry slowly nodded, “You look younger. And that’s why we can’t do this, I’m thirty-three.”

“I don’t mind.” Eden shook her head, scooting up a little on his thighs. Her eyes dragged over Harry’s toned body, the flannel loosely hanging around his shoulders, “If anything, it’s even sexier.” She rasped, “Boys my age are so immature, I need a real man.”

“You need a real man?”

She nodded, “Uh-huh.” Heat seeped into her bones, blood rushing between her legs at the closeness of their bodies, “I need to be fucked by a real man.”

“God – shit.” Harry cursed, “When I invited you here, I thought you’d behave.”

“I am behaving, aren’t I?” Eden panted slightly, “’M just begging for you.”

Harry’s eyes stared at her, sitting on top of him. Her chest heaved in shallow breaths and he swallowed, “You are. Just a pathetic, little thing you are, hm? Need to be controlled so bad, can’t even keep yourself in check around me. You want me so bad.”

“I do.” She moaned, “Please… I just want –“

“Shut up.” Harry muttered, making Eden’s eyes widen as he stared at her, “I don’t care about what you want. I’m in charge. Always.”

Eden panted out, her eyes hazy as she stared at him. Harry’s eyes darted over her face, “So pathetic.” He tutted, the tip of his index finger dragging up her thigh, creating goosebumps in its voyage, “I could just use you, hm? I could just… do whatever I want to you and you’d take it like a good girl just because you’re so desperate for me.”

Eden’s thighs tensed as she tried to listen to him but the words sounded so hazy to her. She just swallowed dryly and nodded, causing Harry to smirk and exhale a breathy chuckle, “Fucking pathetic little whore, you. Nothing but a little cockslut, hm? Should’ve known.”

“Fuck.” Eden whimpered, scooting up higher on his lap. Her hands found his chest, nails digging into his skin as she urgently rocked her hips into his growing length. Harry’s eyes fluttered at the stimulation, Eden tipping her head back in bliss from the relief of her clit rubbing into his swimming shorts.

“Fuck me.” Eden moaned, arching her back as she continued grinding into him, “Please, fuck me.”

Harry’s tongue poked the hollow of his cheek, “Think it’s that easy? You strip in front of your window and you get my cock?”

His dirty talk was so effortless, leaving Eden shaking and trembling. She could moan when Harry’s hands were suddenly on her hips, pushing her off. Eden was too stunned to react immediately, but found herself straddling just one of his muscular thighs now. She exhaled a sharp breath while staring down, seeing her legs split over the tiger tattoo on his leg.

“Go ahead.” Harry rasped, folding his arms back behind his head as he shot her a cocky look, “Ride me, do what you wanted to do last night. ‘S what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Eden shook her head, “I-I want your cock.”

“Brat.” He hissed, sending her a glare, “Said you’d behave, said you’d take whatever I give you. Well, this is what you get. For now.”

It sounded like a promise. Eden licked her dry lips. Behave now, get fucked by him later. Good. She shuddered just thinking about it, imagining him taking her from behind as she laid immobilized on the bed, perhaps even tied up, and he spoke to her in that low tone with those filthy words as his dick destroyed her.

Eden’s thighs tensed and Harry felt it, smirking slightly as he dropped his eyes to where Eden started grinding into his thigh. Her hands were on his chest still, holding herself up as she rolled her pelvis to rub into him. Just like with the pillow, his eyes were focussed on the way her body moved, the muscles she flexed, the breaths she held and the little moans she let out.

He had expected her to be loud for some reason, but she was biting her lip, whimpering out softly as she closed her eyes and worked herself on top of him. And Eden could feel his eyes on him, making her feel more powerful than she dared to admit.

She moved one hand, cupping her breast over her bikini top to give herself a squeeze. Harry’s eyes zeroed in on the touch, his fingers gripping the sleeves of his flannel to keep himself from pulling her top down and see all of her.

Next, her hand moved lower over her torso and down her hip before she shortly lifted off and hooking her bottoms to the side. Harry’s eyes bulged when Eden exposed her pussy and sat down again. A shaky moan left her lips as she picked up her pace again. Harry saw the glistening of his tiger tattoo, Eden’s wetness and arousal leaving a trace.

He was mesmerized, his arms still behind his head as he let her use his fucking leg to shamelessly ride herself to an orgasm. 

“Doing so good.” Harry murmured, eyes gazing in on the way her pussy lips spread over his thigh and her clit brushed his skin. He hummed at the sight, licking his lips, “So hot, Eden… Jesus.”

“Want you,” She panted out, “fuck – please… I need you.”

Harry swallowed, “’M right here.”

“No, you.” Eden choked out the words, “God – just fuck me.” She leaned over him, her forehead leaning against his. Their noses brushed together as she arched out. Harry tasted the sangria on her lips, “Sei così sporco,” He groaned, “implorando il mio cazzo in questo modo.”

“Holy shit.” Eden squeaked, “More.”

“Io che parlo Italiano ti eccito?” Harry smirked, “Puttana del cazzo.” He whispered, “Such a fucking whore, just look at you…”.

Eden moaned, “God – fuck, I’m gonna cum.” She whimpered, “Harry, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good girl. Brava ragazza.” He murmured, “I bet that little cunt tastes so sweet, hm? C’mon, look at me when you cum for me.”

Eden forced her eyes open, her body slumping in fatigue as sweat pearled her hairline. “O-Oh god,” She moaned, “yes!” The choked whimper escaped her throat as she sharply bucked forward and electricity shot through her body, toes curling as her eyes screwed shut.

Harry watched as she came, shaking, whimpering, deliriously grinding. Creamy arousal leaked from her to wet his thigh. He couldn’t even feel the pinching of her nails in his skin, too mesmerized by the sight in front of him. 

“’S a good girl.” Harry cooed, brushing his nose into Eden’s as she panted out sharply, her ears ringing. “Harry,” She murmured, cupping his cheeks. His eyes widened in surprise when she kissed him. He hadn’t expected it one bit, her lips on his. It almost seemed like Eden didn’t realize she was doing it, her eyes staying closed, just a soft kiss to his lips before she kissed his chin and then his jaw.

His eyes fluttered in delight of her gentle kisses, sponging up and down his jaw while her hands roamed his chest. Her fingers moved lower to his abs and then finally the waistband of his swimming shorts. That’s when Harry snapped out of it.

His eyes opened and he inhaled a sharp breath. He was painfully hard and Eden’s delicate touches didn’t necessarily help his cock twitching, “What are you doing?”

“I want to touch you.” Eden panted, opening her eyes finally. She looked drunk on her orgasm and Harry huffed, “Told you before, I don’t care about what you want. This is on my terms.”

“Harry, I want to touch you.” Eden repeated. His jaw tensed as he used both hands this time. His fingers came down on her cheek in a slap, making Eden gasp before he grabbed her chin and held up a finger of his other hand, “No.” He repeated.

Eden hardly seemed fazed by his slap, her cheek stinging deliciously. Her entire body trembled as Harry held her up by her chin and held up his finger in front of her in warning. But Eden didn’t feel too warned, ignoring him once more as she opened her lips and sunk down on his finger to suck it into her mouth.

Harry’s eyes glazed over in lust as he watched, Eden with drunk eyes and her cheeks hollowing out around his digit. She took him all the way, tongue swirling around before she moaned. Harry snapped out of it again after a moment, grabbing her throat instead to yank her up. She gasped as he squeezed her throat warningly, “Eden.” He hissed.

“I want to please you.” She wheezed out, making Harry choke her harder. Her eyes closed as she fought for air in the best way, her head growing dizzy as she still sat on his lap. Her hands clawed at his chest. Harry released at the right point, leaving Eden with a headrush so strong she near fainted.

“You still want to please me?” Harry taunted, “I’ll make you choke on my cock like that.”

Eden softly coughed, still held up by Harry’s hand around her throat as she managed to nod, “Yes – please.”

He smirked wickedly, shoving her off his lap. Eden stumbled a bit as Harry laid outstretched on the sunbed, swallowing as he reached for his cock in his shorts, pulling himself out. Eden felt weak on her legs when she watched him jerking off slowly, and she found herself on her knees at the end of the sunbed after a minute.

The hot tiles burned her knees but she didn’t care one bit, stroking her hands up Harry’s shins to urge him to scoot closer to her. He did, pulling his cock in slow motions as he inched closer to Eden. He decided to give her a moment and do her own thing before fucking her throat, but Eden seemed to have other plans.

Harry’s eyes widened when she stuck out her tongue to lick up her own release left on his thigh. She licked over his tiger tattoo before hovering over his hard length, spitting back onto him. 

“Fuck.” Harry whimpered, throwing his head back. Eden took the lubricated head of his dick between her lips, tasting the mixture of them together before sucking on him. She made him see stars in a matter of seconds, her mouth tight around the swollen tip of him as she flicked her tongue over his slit continuously. 

Everything in Eden’s movements showed Harry how fucking desperate she was to have him like this. He had her in the palm of his hand, she’d do everything for him. It’s what he wanted, it’s the challenge he liked. Taming her, shutting up that bratty mouth of hers and control her.

“Deeper.” He ordered. Eden batted her lashes at him, sucking on his tip only. Harry had pink cheeks from how heavily he was breathing. Eden popped off, licking her spit-slicked lips, “Make me.”

Harry clenched his jaw, “You’re fucking unbelievable.” He grabbed the back of her neck to force her down. Eden’s eyes widened slightly as he pushed her all the way. Her eyes pinched shut at the burn in her throat as he made her take him deeper. Harry had an impressive length and Eden sucked in a breath through her nose as her airway was restricted.

“There we go, that’s it.” Harry exhaled in bliss, feeling the tightness of Eden’s throat as she contracted around him, throat closing up with a gag from how deep he was. Harry licked his dry lips, “This what you wanted, hm? Wanted it to hurt? Wanted me to fucking bruise your throat? Finally shutting up that smart mouth of yours.” He snarled, using a grip on her hair to pull her off. 

Eden coughed and wheezed, lines of spit falling from her lips and webbing between his tip and her mouth. Her eyes watered and Harry stared at her, smirking softly, “You look pretty like this, Eden. Fucking destroyed cockwhore, so desperate for me.”

Eden licked her lips as she gathered herself, her throat already raw. She put her hands behind her back and shot him a nod. Harry huffed out a chuckle at her eagerness, “Fuck, you’re a dream. Pinch my hip if I need to stop.”

Eden nodded and opened her mouth, allowing Harry to push her down again. It was the nastiest blowjob he had ever gotten. Eden was just a mouth for him to use, not stopping him once as he thrusted up to fuck her throat while holding her head down. Tears leaked down her cheeks as she choked and gurgled on him. Harry’s moans were hidden by the bite on his lip, “Yes, all the way, take me all the way… fuck, feels so good.” He praised her, “Good fucking girl, such a tight throat for me.”

Eden hardly heard him, her vision blurred with tears and her jaw and throat aching as Harry used her and ruined her. She’d bruise and be sore and be without a voice, but it’s what he wanted and she let him want it. She let him take it. The elastic band between them had just exploded and now she was here on her knees, sucking him off with her father in the house next door.

She managed to open her eyes, seeing Harry blissed-out. His face was scrunched up in pleasure, every muscle in his body flexed as he held both hands in her hair to pump her up and down on him. His mouth was open in breathy moans whenever he hit the back of her throat and soon enough, he harshly bit his lip, “Fuck – Eden, ‘m almost there.”

Eden didn’t even have the chance to ask him if he wanted to cum in her mouth or on her face or on her tits, he finished before she could blink. Him being almost there apparently meant he was literally right there. With just one more thrust up in her mouth, Harry threw his head back and came deep inside of Eden’s throat.

Her airway was restricted, spurts and spurts of his hot cum filling up her mouth and her throat. Eden wheezed and coughed, but Harry held her there. Only when she violently slapped his hip, did he open his eyes and let her go. Eden disengaged immediately, ears ringing with panic as she felt most – if not all – of his release spilling down her chin, down her throat and onto her chest as she stumbled back and fought for a breath. 

Her cheeks were pink, her head dizzy and her throat sore as she coughed. Her arms trembled holding her up and her chest heaved in short, quick breaths after being choked by him. Harry hardly seemed to care, laying on his back on the sunbed with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, ragged breaths escaping his mouth.

Eden continued coughing, catching her breath as her chest burned and her tongue felt thick.

With Eden’s mouth leaving him so suddenly, Harry’s hand wrapped around himself again. Hissing in sensitivity, he gently stroked himself in the aftermath of his orgasm. Torturing himself almost. Eden stared as his thighs twitched and he seemed on the verge of pain and discomfort, pumping softly to get the final drops of cum out before he literally shuddered and finally disengaged.

He lazily blinked his eyes open, flannel hanging open over his chest, “You okay?” He checked, panting.

Eden managed to nod, “Yeah.” She rasped, her voice raw and her throat aching. Harry fought his smirk at her wrecked state and pushed up on his elbows, “C’mere.” He patted his thighs and Eden slowly climbed up her feet while Harry tucked himself back into his shorts.

Her legs shook from the lack of oxygen as she sat down on Harry’s thighs again to straddle him. His hands easily found her hips to pull her a little closer. His eyes gazed over her face. Red rimmed and wet eyes, swollen lips and his release basically everywhere. Harry loved it, painting her like this. Claiming her. She hadn’t exactly managed to swallow much and most of his cum was running down her chin, the column of her throat and glistening on her chest.

“Ragazza sporca.” He whispered, leaning forward to let his tongue drag over her skin. Eden’s brain near exploded when she watched him, his tongue running below her collarbone to taste himself. He hummed, licking up everywhere he could reach and swallowing down his own release. 

“Close your eyes.” Harry whispered. Eden panted and did as he asked, closing her eyes. She flinched in surprise when he spat on her face, spit mixed with cum dripping down her cheeks. Eden opened her eyes again, realizing he told her to close them as to not get cum in her eyes. It was thoughtful on the one hand, but Harry had a wicked smirk on his face as he watched her so filthy.

He licked his lips and squeezed her thigh, “Così carino.” He murmured, eyes slowly dragging up her entire form. 

Eden seemed at a loss for words and Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling. She was surprised when he put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in, crashing their lips together. There was pure filth between them and when Harry’s tongue pushed into her mouth, Eden reacted by bringing her arms around his neck.

Her fingers cradled his jaw to tip him back, pressing herself all the way against him. She had to say the kiss surprised her. Passion radiated between them, but Eden it was just an aftermath of whatever sexual had just happened between them. It was lust. A craving. Two consenting adults wanted to rip each other’s clothes off and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Fucking sexy.” Harry lowly commented, eyes darting over Eden’s face where his cum was still streaking down. Eden grinned softly before darting her tongue out to lick over her bottom lip, tasting him a little bit. Harry bit his lip as he watched her swallow. 

Eden looked smug with herself, being able to wreck him at least a tiny bit even if she was the ruined one. Because even if she had an orgasm not even fifteen minutes prior, she wanted more. She was throbbing. Her fingers trembled as she refrained from pushing him down and riding him properly. Right here. 

But on the other hand, she didn’t feel like being rejected all over again. The begging was fun, the playing was fun, as long as she knew someone would inevitably give in at the end. And with Harry, she wasn’t sure.

So Eden got up and ran a hand through her messy hair before turning around and heading back towards the pool. Harry raised his brows, watching her as she walked away, “Eden, don’t you dare.” He warned, his jaw dropping when she dove back into the pool. He jumped up his feet, “Eden! My dogs swim in that water!” He referred to his release transferring from his skin into that water.

Eden came up to the surface with a giggle, “Oops.”

***

It was a few hours later – when Eden felt like toast – when she decided to head back over to her father’s house. 

Her and Harry had been lounging around the pool in the sun, hidden by the trees. They had been mostly in silence, sharing a few words here and there but nothing big or revealing. Eden had the feeling both her and him didn’t really mind. They didn’t exactly need to know one another or put up this façade that there was anything more here than sex.

Maybe it would even burst the bubble. Maybe they’d realize they actually don’t like one another and then all magic would disappear. So they didn’t say much, simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between them as the crickets made noise enough.

“Thank you for letting me stay for a bit.” Eden was gathering her things and Harry looked at her from his laying down position on his sunbed.

Truth was, he would’ve dragged her into the house if his dick was up for it. But he simply wasn’t. He ached, so sensitive still from her blowjob that it would physically hurt his balls to have sex right now. Eden looked absolutely delicious and the memory of her face with his cum painting her, entered Harry’s brain.

She had looked like absolute sex. A sight so erotic he wasn’t sure if he had ever witnessed anything like it before. Most women got shy or overly slutty when he came on their faces. They either hid, or made it a very over the top show of wanting it in their mouths.

Eden had simply looked… comfortable almost. It was fucking sexy. And she had sucked him dry. He had abused her throat, but even if he was fucking up into her mouth she had still managed to actually suck and use her tongue. 

Harry shifted slightly in his position, dragging his eyes up her form. Now that he’d had a taste, he for sure knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away anymore. The forbidden fruit he had taken a little bite out of, needed to be devoured. And he knew she wanted him to. 

It’s why he had found himself slightly surprised when Eden hadn’t made a single flirtatious remark in the past few hours. It was just the two of them here and in all their past encounters, she had been all over him. She had seduced him, pulled out all the moves to get his attention. And now she had him all to herself and Eden didn’t try to get him to blush even once. 

Harry wondered if what they had done was enough for her. Or if he had maybe done something wrong. 

“Sure.” He cleared his throat, getting up too as he put his hands on his hips, waiting as she gathered her things. Harry offered her a small smile, “Let me know if you need to cool down again.”

“Well – uh…” Eden flicked her eyes to her father’s house before pressing her lips together, “I might be going back to the UK sooner than anticipated.”

“What?” Harry frowned, “Why?”

She breathed out a chuckle, “Because I don’t feel too welcome here. A-And maybe I should just bite the bullet and start looking for jobs instead of running away.” The argument with her father was fresh on her mind. He wanted her to stay away from Harry and all but near slut shamed her for seeking his company.

And here she had been, riding his thigh and giving him a blowjob. Eden knew she had a free sexual life that would disgust some if not most, but somehow it stung that her father though that about her. Eden tried to be a bad bitch most of the times and faked it until she made it, but her façade could drop in the blink of an eye when someone close to her commented on her like that.

“So, uh – yeah.” She shrugged, “it was nice meeting you, I suppose.”

“Hey, wait.” Harry frowned, “You’ve barely seen anything from around here, you haven’t explored. You can’t just… leave.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna be out of here tomorrow but I don’t think I’m gonna stay all summer.” She shrugged.

“You should.”

Eden turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes as Harry ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, “You know, I could show you around some more. Just spend the day with me tomorrow. There’s this… art thing I wanted to see, we can take the car.”

Eden continued frowning as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, “What are you doing?”

Harry exhaled a breath, “What?”

“What are you doing?” Eden repeated, shrugging her shoulders, “You don’t have to… fucking take me out or anything. We both knew what this was. I’m not expecting you to be this nice guy all of a sudden. Yeah, I sucked your dick, I don’t need a medal for it.” She shrugged again, “Let’s just… leave it.”

Harry huffed and shook his head, “I’m not thanking you because you gave me a blowjob. ‘M just… trying to have you enjoy your summer. This place is nice, you know? Fell in love with it when I first visited and haven’t left since. You definitely haven’t seen it that way. And besides, you should take some time before you start working. You busted your ass in college and got your degree, so take the win and enjoy your time off. You’ll work for the next fuckin’ forty years of your life.”

Eden stared at him, both their stances showing some defence. She took a breath and slowly sighed it back out, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah? You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Just enjoy Italy for a bit.” He shrugged, “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Eden felt surprised. This was probably the most Harry had spoken to her in ever. She timidly nodded, “Right.”

“Come by tomorrow around ten.” He stood behind her and patted her ass, “Off you go.”

Eden shook her head to herself with a chuckle before doing as told. She didn’t climb the fence this time but simply walked out of the front of the house and back into her father’s house. And later that night, she didn’t give Harry a show through the window. She simply closed her blinds, noticing the lights off in his bedroom but on downstairs.

She figured he was on his couch or something, watching something. Or perhaps he was out and left the lights on for the dogs. Or he just forgot.

Getting him out of his head, Eden went to bed and fell asleep easily. 

And when she woke up the next morning, she almost forgot she had met up with Harry. At nine thirty, Eden ran through the house to get ready and grab some coffee. Her father was working in the garden at this hour and Colleen and her had some small talk in the kitchen.

Eden didn’t let anything slip about her plans for the day. She simply said she’d go explore on her own and walk down the hill, perhaps catch a train. 

At ten a.m. on the dot, she sneakily ran over to Harry’s house to ring his bell. He opened up wearing shorts that showed off his tiger tattoo that Eden knew all too well. Pairing it with another wide button-up which was halfway open and a bucket hat on his head, Harry nodded at her, “Morning.”

“Hi.” Eden smiled, the short sundress on her body flowing in the air. It was a nice temperature at this hour of the day. Harry wore worn-off Vans on his feet and had sunglasses in the v-neck of his shirt, a tote bag around his arm, “Brought some fruit for the drive. You hungry?”

“I just had some toast, maybe later.” Eden awkwardly fiddled with her fingers before pressing her lips together, “Can we – uh, go? I don’t want my dad or Colleen to see me here.”

“Why not?” Harry frowned, grabbing his keys and leaving his dogs for the day. They had food, water and a secluded part of his garden to their use, plus the cold tiles of Harry’s airconditioned house.

Eden huffed and shrugged, “Apparently you’re a bad influence.”

“I’d say you’re the bad influence on me.” He smirked before locking up his front door. He then shortly dipped his head to press his lips to Eden’s temple, “Y’look pretty.”

“Stop.” She rolled her eyes, “Don’t do that.”

“What, give you a compliment?” Harry questioned, walking besides Eden to guide her towards his car. It was a rather old car, a pale blue with no roof and an old leather steering wheel. Eden found herself impressed with the vintage look of the car and put her stuff in the backseat, opening up the passenger door to climb in. Harry stood at the driver’s side, holding up the keys, “Do you have a license?”

Her face lit up at what she thought he was suggesting, “Yes.”

“Wanna try?” He smiled and Eden squeaked, “Yes!” She bubbled, jumping over the gear box to get behind the wheel, “Oh wait… other side of the road.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Eden bit her lip, adjusting the seat a bit, “Yeah, okay, I’ll try.” She accepted the keys and with a wide grin on her face, they were on the road in no time. Eden found herself relaxing in the car, her short brown hair flowing in the wind even if she put in a little scarf. The sun climbed up in the sky, warming their skin. No music was on as Eden followed the directions Harry gave her.

They drove past the little town at the bottom of the hill and drove further, onto the highway and little coastroads that overlooked the sea. Waves crashed into the rocks and Eden couldn’t wait to take a dip later. She had a feeling they’d come close to water and brought a two-piece in her bag. 

Harry eventually had her driving into a bit of a larger city where he let her drive through little streets that he seemingly knew like the back of his hand, “This is the largest sort of city close by.” He explained, “There’s cheap parking in there, if you take a left.”

“Here?” Eden pointed and he hummed, “Yep,” his hand found its way to her bare thigh as he gave a gentle squeeze, “’s good. Did you enjoy driving?”

Her skin burned as Eden tried to focus on parking into the space Harry showed her. She swallowed dryly, moving her feet to brake, shift and accelerate, “Mhm. It’s a nice car.”

“Sure is.” He agreed, “Fits you.”

Eden didn’t really respond, unsure of how to take his sudden compliments. Eventually they got out of the car and walked around for a bit, Eden not really knowing what the plan for the day was. She simply went with it and followed Harry around. They stopped for some bruschetta and cold water to hydrate before Harry pushed his sunglasses up in his hair and stared at Eden from across the little rounded table.

His facial hair was slightly longer than the day before, a moustache decorating his top lip and making him look slightly older. It was sexy, Eden thought. She kept her eyes low and finished up her little lunch while feeling his gaze on her, “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something between my teeth?”

He chuckled, leaning his chin on his hand, elbow popped up on the table, “Nope. You just look beautiful.”

Eden rolled her eyes, “Stop flirting.”

“Why? You can flirt with me and I can’t flirt with you?”

“I haven’t been flirting with you. We’re just… acquaintances.” Eden shrugged. Harry raised one eyebrow, “True. You haven’t flirted with me since yesterday. Since we… had sex.”

“We didn’t have sex.” Eden corrected him, “I grinded on your leg and gave you a blowie.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth curled up into a small smirk at the easiness of Eden’s foul mouth, “That’s true. But I’m curious… is that just it? We fooled around and you’re done with me now?”

Eden stared back at him, “What’s the matter, did I hurt your feelings?”

“Ouch.” Harry chuckled, shaking his head, “No, I’d just like to know.”

Eden leaned forward on the table, “You know when I asked you if men and women throw themselves at you and you said yes? You really can’t stand it when someone doesn’t throw themselves at you, hm?”

“Think you bruised my ego?”

She puckered her lips in thought and shrugged, “Sounds like it.”

“Well, if I remember correctly… you were the one begging for my cock.”

“True, I was. But… Well, it’s off-putting if you keep rejecting me all the time. I’m a little desperate but not that desperate. No means no. And you said no.” She shrugged. Harry frowned, “I didn’t say no, I said maybe later.”

Eden rolled her eyes again, “Look, let’s just forget about it. It happened, we both enjoyed it and now we just move on. No biggie.”

“So you don’t want me anymore?” Harry checked and Eden chuckled, “Nope, I’m good. Unless you’re offering yourself on a silver platter… Just saying I don’t wanna work for it anymore. So… maybe it’s your turn to seduce me if you’re that desperate for it.” Her voice ended in a purr and Harry stared at her, his stomach clenching and his face growing hot.

Eden looked at him over the rim of her glass, “Finally ready to tell me where we’re going?”

He cleared his throat, running his finger over his moustache, “Yeah, it’s – uh… an art expo here. From Marino Mazzacurati. He’s a s-“

“A sculptor, right?” Eden finished the words for him and Harry flicked his eyes up, “Yes.” He watched as Eden’s face lit up with a slight twinkle in her eye. A dimple popped in her cheek as she flashed her pearly white teeth. His heart slammed in his chest as she just looked so… pretty.

Her skin was radiant and she had that little scarf in her hair. Her prominent collarbones were accentuated by the thin straps of the floral, white dress she wore. It was simple but so cute.

“So you know him?”

Eden smiled and nodded eagerly, “Yes, I do. I-I’ve studied some of his stuff during college. That’s sick.”

“Yeah, I bought two tickets online last night.” Harry shrugged and Eden arched up an eyebrow, “You did? That’s… sweet.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m excited.” Eden smiled, “Can we go now?”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, let me just pay first.” He was ready to get up and Eden frowned, “You don’t have to pay for me.”

“I want to.” Harry shrugged as he scraped his chair back. Eden simply stared at him, watching as he walked up to the cash register and handled their bill in Italian. Soon after, both walked the narrow streets again on their way to the art gallery. Sweat pearled at Harry’s hairline due to the heat as they sought to walk in the shadows to avoid sun and burn up even more.

“This is it.” Harry breathed, taking off his sunnies again now that they were in the coolness of the art gallery. It was rather deserted as the two entered and watched the sculptures. 

Eden tilted her head to the side, looking at a certain piece in a large room. She heard footsteps behind her, Harry coming to stand nearly with his chest against her back. The hair in her neck raised as he breathed down, “It’s quite rare how he managed to represent cubism, expressionism and realism.” He spoke.

Eden’s throat bobbed in a thick swallow, “Mhm. He started out as a gravestone sculptor in his f-“

“Father’s company, I know.” Harry spoke and Eden could hear the smile in his voice. They were silent for a moment until Harry spoke, “Do you like this one?”

“It’s part of the Wrestlers collection, right?”

“Lottatori,” Harry corrected her in the proper Italian, “is what we call it here.”

Eden breathed out a chuckle and stepped aside, moving onto the next piece, “Did you learn Italian when you moved here or did you know it beforehand?”

“I knew a few words beforehand, but I really submerged myself in it when I decided to move here. Even when I was still in London and I hadn’t made the move yet – but knew I was going to - , I was reading books and stuff in Italian, or watching movies with no subtitles. And then moving here… it’s such a small town that really not that many locals speak English.” He explained, once again standing behind Eden.

Eden didn’t respond and Harry’s lip twitched up in a small smile, “I’ve been complimented on my Italian by the locals, by the way.”

“Yeah, you sound good.” Eden murmured and Harry’s smirk grew slightly, “I remember you liking it.”

Eden’s face turned hot at the mention of his Italian dirty talk the day before. She gathered herself, Harry unable to see her face. She flinched ever so slightly when his hand came up from behind her, reaching around to gently grab her chin, “You have to look at it from this angle.” He murmured, tilting her chin slightly.

She held her breath as she let him reposition her gaze, seeing the sculpture from a different angle to have it make sense. She puffed out a small breath of air, “Oh. I see.”

They moved on again, Eden stopping at the next one, “This is Little Caesar, right?” She questioned before her eyes zeroed in on the little information tag by the sculpture. “Yes,” Harry confirmed from behind her, “pretty sure it’s a replica though. If I’m not mistaken, his original one was sold.”

Eden slowly nodded. Her muscles tensed when she felt Harry’s hand on her hip from behind, giving a gentle squeeze through the thin fabric of her sundress, “C’mon.” He nudged her to the side, keeping his hand on her to guide her to the next piece.

This time, he placed both hands on her hips, standing closely behind her and peering at the sculpture over her shoulder. When Harry didn’t feel her pulling away, he went as far as slipping his arms around her form to pull her into him. 

With her back against his chest, he encaged her. Eden exhaled a breath and relaxed into him. Harry hummed at the feeling, “’S good. Lean back.”

Eden heart thrashed in her chest as she did, breathing shakily. Harry’s hand slipped slightly higher until he palmed her breast over the dress, giving a squeeze to her chest before reaching higher to cup her jaw again and tilt her to the side.

His lips came down on hers easily and Eden whimpered in surprise, tensing up. 

Harry kept it modest and even slightly teasing, giving a soft yet deep and long kiss to Eden’s lips before pulling back. She chased him slightly, needing more but Harry didn’t give in. He had a slight smirk on his lips and then used his fingers on her chin to direct her eyes back to the art, “That’s where you’re supposed to be looking, mia dolcezza.”

Eden flushed pink as she blinked a few times, staring at the sculpture again even if her legs felt weak. She felt grateful for Harry’s arms around her, and he smirked wider upon feeling her instability. 

Continuing the teasing touches, they made their way through the gallery. Eden tried to get the control back though, so every time Harry tried to kiss her, she pulled back right before his lips touched hers.

It was a game. For the both of them. 

And Harry had a feeling that it would be, which is why he had something planned for the afternoon. A boat ride, a yacht, just the two of them. Out in the ocean, there were no curious eyes, no one to disturb them.

Eden felt on a fluffy cloud when Harry drove them towards the coast and the harbour. She couldn’t even explain her giddiness upon seeing the boat, which Harry steered. She laid on the deck while staring at him. Their sexual tension was high, the boat rocking to the waves as they were surrounded by blue water.

“This is insane.” Eden mumbled. Harry dropped the anchor as he joined Eden on the deck, sun warming their skin. He closed his eyes and hummed, tilting his head up to the rays, “Liking Italy a bit better already?”

She chuckled, “For sure. I could get used to this.”

“A rich gentleman taking you out? You know what that’s called, right?” He teased.

“As if you wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to be my sugar daddy.”

Harry threw his head back in a laugh, “No comment.” He then glanced at her, “Want some wine?”

“Oh! Yes, for sure.” Eden grinned, “Oh my god, this is perfect. I wanna stay here forever.”

Harry chuckled and got up again, ditching his button-up and using his time below deck to quickly put on his swimming shorts and grab a bottle of pink wine and two glasses. 

Sunglasses on his nose, he went back to the deck to give Eden her glass. He found her slipping off the sundress as she was on her knees, and he stopped in his tracks.

She was in her underwear, just a small thong and a lace bralette covering her private parts. He could see her nipples through the lace, and the tiny thong did nothing to conceal her. Eden arched her back, making it a show of taking the dress off before their eyes locked. She smiled softly to herself, seeing Harry with his jaw on the floor.

Getting up, Eden sought her balance on the wobbly boat, “Can I change downstairs?” She checked, “I brought a bikini.”

Harry’s throat felt dry before he forced himself to nod, “Y-Yeah.”

“Okay.” She sweetly smiled. It gave Harry a few minutes to gather himself, and when she returned she was in a bikini as pink as the wine he poured. It hugged her tightly, showing her nipples through the little triangles covering her up with an equally small piece of fabric acting as her bottoms.

“Thank you.” She accepted the glass Harry offered her before they took their spots on the deck, sipping some wine. Both were lounging on a fluffy towel, soaking in the sun. Harry couldn’t keep his eyes of her body while Eden tried her best to keep her eyes off his.

The tattoos, the tan, the chest hair… He was just irresistible. Is she wasn’t so proud and stubborn, she would’ve jumped him. But Eden had the upper hand and she wanted to enjoy it – even if she knew deep down she’d crumple if he even gave her the smallest amount of attention.

And when the silence took over and Eden drank her wine, she could just imagine herself slowly riding him here on this deck. Harry blissed out beneath her as she’d rock her hips into him, feeling him deep inside her. The sun would be going down, engulfing them in an orange hue as she’d grind to the motions of the waves and make his toes curl in pleasure.

Goosebumps rose over her legs before she cleared her throat, “I’m gonna take a dip.” She announced. Harry watched as Eden got up and stretched her arms, “You too?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, “I need some cooling down.”

Eden chuckled and put her glass inside of the little cabin before making a short run off to the side and diving into the cold water. Harry watched her disappear before she rose up a bit of a distance away, quickly followed as Harry too jumped in.

The bright sunlight reflected off the surface of the ocean and Eden smiled widely, throwing herself back to float in the endless pool of salt water. She heard soft splashing nearby and it came as no surprise to her to feel Harry’s hands on her waist, pulling her into him.

Eden giggled as his arms wrapped around her form, and with both of them no longer kicking up, they submerged. Eden closed her eyes, her teeth showing underwater as sound died down. Harry’s hands moved to her ass underwater, and it came as no surprise to Eden to feel a pucker of his lips against her own before he pulled them back up.

He coughed slightly and when Eden opened her eyes, she was met with a grinning Harry. He playfully splashed some water her way before diving back underwater to swim a lap around the boat. Eden climbed back up on the ladder in the meantime, dropping down onto the deck with a sigh to let herself dry.

Harry joined her a few moments later, water dripping down his abs as he let out a breath, “That felt great.” He commented, plopping down on his towel next to Eden, who hummed, “It did.”

Silence took over for a minute, Eden nibbling her lip until she sat up. Her wet hair dripped down her back but the scorching sun was drying her up quickly. She glanced at Harry, “Can you put sunscreen on me?”

Harry blinked his eyes open, “What?” He sat up, “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

Eden sent him a sweet smile, “Good. Thank you.” And before Harry’s eyes, she reached behind her to undo her bikini, ripping the top piece off of her body. Harry swallowed thickly when Eden was left topless, his eyes shamelessly dropping to her soft tits.

His cock jumped in his swimming shorts as Eden rolled around to lay down on her front. Harry got the hint, reaching into one of the bags for some sunscreen before he hovered over her. Squirting the product in his hands, he started rubbing it into her warm skin.

Eden closed her eyes when he gave her a slight massage, the fingertips pressing into some sore spots on her back as he made his way down her back to the dimples all the way at the bottom. 

And he didn’t stop there. Eden bit her lip when his hands were on her ass cheeks. She knew her bikini bottoms were more of a thong than anything else, and that most of her flesh was exposed. Harry took his advantage, getting his hands on her, “Wouldn’t want you to burn this pretty little peach.” He murmured.

Eden softly hummed and he continued massaging her ass cheeks. Harry had his lip between his teeth as he stared at her plump behind, “D’you like it?” He asked. After a few seconds of silence, Harry glanced at Eden’s face to see her eyes closed. He clenched his jaw, bringing his hand back to deliver a sharp slap to her right cheek.

Eden yelped as she felt the sharp sting, immediately opening her eyes. Harry grabbed a fistful of her ass cheek in his palm, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.” She breathed out, “Y-Yes, I like it.”

Harry hummed before pulling her hip, forcing Eden to roll over. Her tits bounced from the movement and Harry licked his lip, staring down at her again. Spreading more sunscreen around his palms, he wasted no time in placing his hands on her boobs to massage in the product. Eden held her breath, staring at Harry as he seemed mesmerized by her chest.

He kneaded softly before brushing his thumbs over her nipples, hardening them in a matter of seconds. He didn’t seem to mind that he used way too much product, covering Eden’s breasts in a white sheen of sunscreen.

“So filthy.” He mumbled, leaning down to let spit land on her chest from between his puckered lips. Eden moaned softly, feeling the warmth of his saliva on her skin before he spread that around too. His eyes looked glazed over, drunkenly staring at Eden as her tits glistened in his spit.

“Your turn.” Eden breathed, locking her leg around his thigh to flip them around. Harry’s eyes were wide in surprise when Eden climbed on top of him. Her hair was wild and untamed and she placed her palms on his bare chest, pushing her own tits together. Harry couldn’t keep his eyes away, breathing shakily at the erotic sight.

His hard cock was trapped in his swimming shorts, but he had no doubt Eden was aware of his erection. And that she was aware that she was the cause for it. She loved it, knowing she had a certain power over him. 

Harry stared up at her, illuminated by sunlight. His hands immediately smoothed over her thighs as she straddled him, sitting snugly up against his cock. “Sembri radiosa.” He mumbled, “come il sole.”

Eden breathed sharply as the Italian words tumbled from his mouth. Spreading the sunscreen between her palms, she then started rubbing the product into Harry’s chest. Subconsciously, her hips rocked into him simultaneously as the way she was moving her hands. 

“Fuck.” Harry sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, giving Eden full control over his body. She stroked over his chest, up to his shoulders and then down his abs. He felt her shuffling down and then her hands were on his thighs. Moving higher, she pushed the fabric of his shorts up until stopping before reaching his dick.

Silently asking for permission, Harry realized. He kept his eyes closed, giving Eden equally silent permission by lifting his hips. She hesitated for a moment before sliding down the waistband of his shorts to free his cock.

“God – fuck.” Harry cursed, his fists balling when Eden’s hand wrapped around his throbbing dick. He was wet in precum, forcing himself to open his eyes and push up on his elbows to at least see the sight in front of him. Eden, topless, stroking him from base to tip with a twist in her wrist. 

She had her lip between her teeth, “You’re big.” She commented. Harry huffed out a chuckle, “Yeah. You still want it?”

“Mhm.” She nibbled her lip before releasing it with a pop, “It’s gonna hurt. I want it to hurt.”

Harry groaned and quickly grabbed her, pushing her on her back on the deck before his fingers fumbled with her bottoms. Eden assisted him, lifting her hips too so she could be as naked as him. Harry shuffled out of his shorts and pushed Eden’s legs to the side to spread her for him.

The boat rocked on the ocean as he stared down her bare cunt, wet in arousal as her lips were spread for him. He could see every fucking inch, hungrily licking his lips, “I can’t fucking wait.” He groaned.

“J-Just fuck me.” Eden choked out. She submissively brought her hands up over her head to give Harry all the room and space he needed, arching out her chest for him. He spat down again, using his fingers to spread it around her nipples as he breathed harshly, “It’s gonna hurt.” He warned.

Eden just nodded, “I know, make it hurt – please. I need it hard.”

“God, you’re such a fucking whore.” Harry bit, guiding himself to her. His tip caught with her entrance and Eden mewled, shuddering at the pressure. Harry stared down at where they touched, not pushing in more than just an inch, “Like that?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eden moaned. Harry panted out, “You’re so wet.” He whispered, watching as he pulled his tip back out, shining in her arousal. He dragged his cock up her slit, pressing into her clit. Eden shuddered and writhed more. A blurt of precum pearled her clit and Harry fucking lost it. Without more thought, he pushed inside of Eden in one swift motion.

She let out a high-pitched moan, clenching her thighs at the intrusion. It stung and hurt, but in a way so delicious her eyes rolled back. He was big, stretching her. And deep. So fucking deep. 

“Fuck, baby, haven’t even started and you’re creaming over my cock.” He taunted, although Harry’s voice slightly trembled too as he tried to hold himself together. Eden was wet and warm, and after letting her adjust for a bit, he could feel her completely melting and relaxing. 

“That’s good.” Harry praised, “That feels so fucking good… what a good, wet girl you are.”

Eden bit her lip and moaned, bucking back into him. Harry kept her legs wide open before he drew back and slammed back in. A gasp was stuck in Eden’s throat as her eyes bulged at the pressure, and Harry could only watch in awe as her tits bounced.

They were naked on the deck of a public boat, but no one was around them. The boat rocked a little and the sun was hot on Harry’s back as he sat on the heels of his feet with Eden in front of him.

He was fucking her raw, but neither cared. His cock was wet in her arousal, pulling back before pushing back in. Eden squeaked with every thrust, her eyes watering. 

After a few minutes of easing Eden into it, Harry got more comfortable. He leaned one hand next to her head, pushing her leg up with the other so her knee was against her shoulder and she was split wider for him.

“God – Harry…” Eden whimpered, “harder, please… harder.”

“Harder?” He panted, “You’re a fucking whore.”

Her eyes were screwed shut, “I am.”

“Tell me how often you’ve done this, huh?” He fucked her harder, his skin slapping against hers, “How often have you fucking seduced a man to spoil you and then fuck you like this?”

Eden couldn’t respond and Harry grew impatient again, raising his hand to slap her cheek, “Tell me.”

“I-I d-“ Eden gasped, crying out as Harry angled himself differently and screwed into her harder, “Such a dumb whore for cock.” He spit, “needing a rich, older guy to put you in your spot, hm? Need me to feel good. Need me to fucking destroy your cunt like this.”

Harry grabbed her hair to cock her head back harshly, Eden stretched out as she still refrained from using her hands. She had an adventurous sex life before, but she had never been fucked like this. On a boat, after just having a day full of tension altogether. And it just snapped. The touching just got out of hand and now here she was, with a man balls deep inside of her.

“Gonna let me feel this pussy cum for me?” Harry panted, popping his thumb in his mouth before pressing down on her clit. Eden shook and mewled as he drew tight circles, at the same time his cock kept brushing into her g-spot over and over again. 

“H-Harry – oh my god…”

“Feels good?”

She threw her head back with a moan as her tummy tightened, “Y-Yes, I’m gonna cum… Oh my god, you’re gonna make me cum.”,,

Harry held his breath when he felt it, her walls pulsating around him as her body trembled. Eden cried out curses, her hands finally attempting to reach for him. Harry caught her hands easily, lacing their fingers together as he pushed them back over her head and completely hovered over her. His hips didn’t let up, continuing to fuck into her in sharp, short pulses.

He watched Eden’s eyes water, the way her brow scrunched up in pleasure, the way her lips gaped. He spat in her open mouth and saw the way his saliva pooled on her tongue before she choked and coughed slightly.

Her orgasm seemed endless, Eden unable to get any air to her lungs as Harry relentlessly fucked her. And when she was on the verge of passing out, he pulled out sharply. Eden whimpered and shook as Harry grabbed her hip and rolled her around again. She was on her stomach, feeling his hands on her hips as he pulled her up. She leaned on her elbows as he pushed her knees to the side and slid into her again.

“God, y’feel so fucking good…” He moaned.

Eden couldn’t do anything but whine, feeling as her knees bruised from the hard deck, same as her elbows as she scooted up with each hard thrust of Harry’s hips. She was on the constant brink of pain and pleasure, letting him use her like a fucktoy but she wanted nothing else.

She was trembling, her lungs burning as she couldn’t seem to get a decent breath in. All the air got knocked out of her whenever his hips collided with her ass. Harry stared at the jiggle in her ass cheeks, holding his palms on her. Eden sunk down through her arms more to arch out, completely pushing back against him as soft whimpers filled his ears.

“Such a good, wet cunt.” Harry praised, slowing down just a tad as he felt his heartbeat violently hammering. He pulled out even, giving his cock a break before he leaned down behind her. Spitting down between her ass cheeks, Eden’s eyes rolled back when she felt his tongue wiggling through her pussy lips.

“Oh – fuck… yes!” She moaned, “Harry – oh my god.”

His tongue was salacious, slipping down to her budding clit to give a soft suck before moving back up. When he buried his tongue between her ass cheeks, Eden violently bit her lip to keep from screaming out. He kept her nice and spread, licking over her rim and eating her out with no shame in sight. 

Spitting down once more, Harry straightened up again. His hand took a hold of his cock, which he slid between her cheeks to tap over the tight ring of muscles. Eden choked out puffs of air mixed with whimpers as she pushed back against him, “P-Please… I need it.”

“I know you do.” Harry cooed, watching his wet cock sliding against her tightest entrance, “I know, you need me so bad… You’d let me do anything, hm? So fucking greedy.” He slapped his tip against her hold and Eden buckled through her arms, near biting down her own arm to suppress her whines. Harry watched her shake and shudder as he went further, teasing with the idea of intrusion as he placed his tip against her hole and threatened to push in.

“Y-Yes, Harry… Please.” Eden deliriously begged and he hummed, “Look at that, you’d let me fuck your ass. You really want it to hurt, don’t you?”

“Uh-h-huh.” Eden stammered, tears leaking down her cheeks as she felt herself going insane in anticipation. Her arousal was running down her thighs and she couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in her life. “You think you could take me?” Harry taunted, “Baby, I’ve already destroyed your tight cunt… you wouldn’t be able to walk.”

He couldn’t believe it. Unprepped and unprotected, she’d just let him use her. All of her. He knew that if he pushed her further, she’d truly let him fuck her there. But Harry still felt a sense of responsibility and at least a sense of care. She’d truly be in pain if he did that and even if she claimed she liked it when it hurt, he wasn’t sure if she realized what she was asking for.

“Little, ruined cumslut.” He tutted, “Go on, ride me. Show me how much you need me.” He pulled away completely, laying down on his back on the deck as Eden forced her limbs to move to straddle him. Her movements were uncoordinated, amusing Harry as she trembled and sniffled. His smiled faltered when she took a hold of him, jerking him off for a few seconds before positioning him at her entrance. 

The warmth of her pussy welcomed him again, Harry tipping his head back as his toes curled and he gripped her thighs. Eden took him slowly, inch by inch as he disappeared inside of her soft, wet pussy until their thighs touched.

“D-Doesn’t even feel like you’ve ever been fucked before.” He croaked, “Not by a real man, at least.”

Eden chuckled to herself, drunk on his words as she started grinding. Tears sprung to her eyes immediately at how perfect everything felt. Her tummy jumped in excitement when he continued brushing over her spongy spot up her front wall, sitting so snugly inside of her it was like they were meant for each other.

“Shit.” She sighed, leaning her head back as her hands braced themselves on his thighs behind her. Harry couldn’t help but just stare at the erotic sight in front of him. Eden working herself on top of him, her muscles working to keep her hips rocking. Her nipples hard, her stomach flexing as she rode him slowly and deeply. She bit down on her lip to keep her moans down and he just… couldn’t look away. Not even if he wanted. He couldn’t even blink.

They had been staring at art most of the day but nothing had made him feel like this did. She was just such a sight for sore eyes. So, so fucking sexy. 

His fingers found her clit again, Eden gasping in sensitivity when she could feel him touching her. Teasing. Flicking. Playing with her. She shuddered before slowly opening her eyes. Harry was bathing in the yellow sunlight, lit up completely but his eyes were on where they touched. Eden continued rocking her pelvis into him as his fingertips toyed with her nerves.

“D-Do you want me to cum again?” She breathed, fingers digging into his thighs when her entire body tingled in delight. Harry smirked, “Fuck, yes. You want my cum so bad, hm? Need to be fucking filled like a whore. You need it so bad.”

“I n-need it so bad.” Eden confirmed in a stuttering gasp, throwing her head back as the beginnings of her orgasm started. Her hips fell out of rhythm as she trembled in pleasure, Harry holding a steady hand on her hip as his free hand continued playing her clit. 

And just like with her first orgasm, he didn’t stop once she shuddered and cried out, he kept her going. Even when Eden tried to push his hand away with her eyes screwed shut. Harry didn’t oblige, instead wrapping an arm around her torso to pull her down. Her hands braced themselves as his cock slipped from her.

“H-Harry…” Eden slurred when his fingers abandoned her clit but moved to her opening, plunging two inside of her to replace his cock. While her body was dealing with the aftermaths of her second orgasm, Harry began building the third. 

Eden’s knees could hardly keep herself up when his fingers curled, and curled, and curled to massage her swollen g-spot until she gasped and cried and begged. He stared at her intently as he played her like only he knew how to. He knew a woman’s body well and was easy at picking up signals to figure out what they wanted or how they liked it.

Eden liked it rough and she liked to be pushed, so when she writhed in discomfort of an orgasm this long wrecking her body, he didn’t let up. “C’mon.” He panted, “Give me another one, hm?” Her arousal ran over his knuckles as he licked his lip, “Make it wet. Do what you do best and soak me.”

“I-“ Eden gasped, fully dropping her face into the crook of Harry’s neck as she slumped against him. Drops of creamy arousal fell from her, wetting his hand and part of his lap as she had a wet orgasm. Her body ached and felt tired all over, and her brain felt hazy.

“Fuck, good girl.” Harry kept fucking his fingers inside of her to keep it going until Eeden fully whimpered and protested. He was slow in sliding his fingers out, bringing them to his lips to savour that sweet taste. His tongue swirled around his digits as Eden laid motionless on top of him. He felt her ragged breaths into his neck, their sweaty bodies pressed together as she was cradled up on his lap.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath before nudging her to roll around again. She thudded on her back and he saw the pink in her cheeks, the fatigue in her eyes and the bliss written all over her face. He chuckled softly while hovering over her again, using his hands to split her knees.

With a kiss to her lips, Harry guided inside her again. Eden tensed and winced, but Harry hardly cared. The pressure at the bottom of his spine overwhelmed him greatly, and he needed to cum inside of her. “Fuck.” He breathed, their lips brushing together. He held her hands again, up over her head as Eden pliantly let him slam inside of her.

It was uncomfortable and she was sore, but the look in his eyes convinced her more than ever to let him have this. He looked animalistic and desperate at the same time. Like he needed this orgasm but only with her. Like it mattered that it was her he was finishing inside of and no one else.

“Baby.” He croaked, tipping his head back with a tightly clenched jaw. His eyes screwed shut, brows knitted together in pleasure as he panted out and fucked her deep. “’M gonna fill you up so good.” He rasped.

“Uh-huh.” Eden nodded, “Please, I need it all. Need you to stuff me.”

“Holy fuck.” Harry cursed in disbelief. He tried to keep his eyes open as he sped up more, harshly thrusting into Eden and gazing into her irises. His forehead dropped on hers as his orgasm started, noses brushing together. Harry moaned shakily, tensing completely. He grabbed her hands tighter, his knuckles turning white as he curled his toes and pushed as deep inside of her as he could, “Oh my fucking god.” He whimpered, “F-Fuck.”

Eden gasped as she felt him pulsing, his orgasm spurting out of him to coat her insides in a white, sticky mess. His hair flopped over his forehead as his jaw opened and he desperately gasped, “Eden – I’m… holy fuck.” He squeaked, voice cracking as he continued coming inside of her. She could feel his release leaking down the sides of his shaft, dripping down her pussy.

The sight had aroused her so much once more, and Harry was limp on top of her as he finally finished. His cock twitched against her walls and after some nagging from Eden, Harry managed to lift his head. 

“Scoot up.” She whispered. He blinked twice, “What?”

She shot him a look, “Scoot up.” She near pushed him off and then tapped her chest, “Here.”

Harry’s legs felt weak as he slipped out of her before doing as she asked. He could hardly think straight, and even less now that he was straddling her chest and Eden got to cleaning him up. Harry bit his lip as her tongue gently ran over his softening cock. He was slick and wet in both their orgasms, and she tasted the mix of them thoroughly by giving a gentle blowjob in aftercare.

“Shit, babe… ‘s so good.” He threw his head back in a breathy moan when he felt her angling up his softened prick to lick at his base and eventually his balls. Harry felt delirious in sensitivity. It was so painful but so good and delicious at the same time. He constantly had to bite his tongue, knowing he was a second away from begging her to stop but also wanted her to continue more than anything.

And then he felt her hands on his cheeks, urging him up higher. Harry felt the stinging behind his lids at the pleasure she wanted him to receive. His tired body did as she asked, and he felt her tongue on his rim next.

“Eden…” He moaned, trembling on his knees as he hovered over her face and she ate him out. His hand lazily stroked his half-hard cock, so twitchy and red from the hard fuck he had just done. Eden hummed, pushing her tongue inside of him to eat him out. Harry whined, shaking as he sped up his hand, tugging on his own cock and angling up to give Eden room to breathe through her nose. She’d bump into his heavy balls every once in a while, also licking that part of his body.

Even after the orgasm, he was still so ready to give more. And she could feel it. Sucking his balls into her mouth, she could feel him pulsing and near grinding down onto her mouth. Harry was overstimulated and sensitive, and quickly scooted back when he felt like he’d cum again. It was near impossible and his cock felt like he was about to explode. It worried him just a touch, the touch of his own hand felt burning hot as he squeezed around his base. Eden submissively stuck out her tongue but knew Harry had no intentions on finishing in her mouth.

He came on her face again, just a few blurts of milky come painting over her face and not a single drop actually landing on her waiting tongue. Harry cried out, shaking all over as he emptied himself once more. He had never had two orgasms this close to one another, and for a moment he truly feared he was about to pass out.

Eden hummed, stroking her hands up over his chest as Harry continued hovering over her. Eventually she assisted in laying him down next to her. He breathed heavily, sprawled out completely with Eden next to him. She laid on her side, gently playing with the chest hair on his sternum to calm him down. His cock was spent and laying soft between the fern tattoos on his hips.

Both didn’t say a word until Harry thickly swallowed, “Well, that happened.”

“It did.” Eden chuckled. 

He turned his head to the side to watch her, an easy smile on her lips as she stared back at him. She had used her hand to wipe off some of his release but hadn’t been completely thorough. He suspected she just didn’t care all that much.

“Still thinking of moving back?” He checked.

Eden bit her lip to fight her smile, “Well… I don’t know. You might’ve convinced me.”

“It was the art expo, wasn’t it?” Harry teased and Eden burst out into a giggle, Harry’s heart warming at the sound. He pulled at her arm, getting her to lay her arms over his chest and lean over him a little bit. He tucked her hair behind her ear, “I promise that if you stay… I’ll fuck you like that every day.”

“Every day?” Eden huffed, “Yeah, no, I’m not surviving that.”

He smirked, “I thought you liked it rough?”

“I do, but not every single day.” She got a bit more comfortable, her fingertip tracing over his eyebrow, “If you want to fuck me every single day, you’re going to have to be a bit… slower. Gentler.”

“Gentler?”

“Mhm. Don’t tell me you don’t know how to be a gentleman.” She smiled and Harry returned it, “Just made you cum three times, I’d say I know how to be a gentleman.”

“Harry.” Eden giggled, shaking her head to himself. He chuckled along, clearing his throat, “No, I get it. I’ll be gentler, promise. In fact…” He took her arm again and rolled them over, hovering over her again, “why don’t I show you how gentle I can be?”

Eden frowned until her eyes widened, Harry lips on her chest before he shimmied down between her legs, “Harry,” She gasped, “no, I can’t.”

“Shh,” He cooed, the hold on her thighs making Eden part her legs as Harry fit his shoulders between them, “let me return the favour, yeah?”

The words were stuck in her throat, and Eden dropped down on her back when his tongue flicked through her slit. She held her breath, the mix of pain and pleasure shooting through her. And where Eden feared it’d be mostly pain, she was proven wrong. Harry was slow and soft, his tongue gently licking through her folds to lick up any of their releases.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, even softly running his wet tongue over her pained clit until pushing her thighs up a little higher to give himself more access. His tongue pushed inside her pussy, flexing and sucking to get every single drop of their mixed orgasms. He hummed with closed eyes, hearing the way Eden softly moaned. Her fingers in his hair encouraged him, and her body arched to move with the pulses of his tongue. 

When there was nothing left to clean up, Harry lifted his head with a lazy smirk, “How’s that for gentle?”

Eden laid blissed out, a lazy grin on her lips as she chuckled, “So good.” She murmured, her body lax and unable to move. Her limbs felt heavy, and Harry felt the same way, laying down next to her again. His hand found her waist, and for the rest of the afternoon there was always some contact.

Even when they jumped in the ocean for another swim, he stayed close. They teased and whispered to each other, giving gentle kisses. He squeezed her ass softly whenever she was in reach and Eden often had her arms around his neck.

They didn’t talk much, both of them just not feeling the need to. 

This was physical, and they knew it. Harry could feel something in his chest whenever she was near, but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough at the end of the summer to ask her to stay. So he watched her leave.

For the past few weeks, they had spent a lot of time together. Harry and Eden got to know each other on a superficial level. She didn’t feel the need to share every detail about her life and he didn’t ask. Their dynamic was good, until it wasn’t. Until Harry wanted more. 

He felt something but didn’t know what it was. So it’d be unfair to ask her to stay for something he couldn’t promise or guarantee. Perhaps he only felt like he liked her because he knew she’d leave again. Perhaps if she stayed, he’d get sick of her and then he’d feel guilty.

So Eden was at his place one final time, putting her clothes on again after they had rolled around his sheets for the past hour. She zipped up her shorts and tucked her hair behind her ear, sending him a smile. Harry buttoned up his shirt again as he returned it.

Her hair was wet from the shower she just had in his bathroom. Even if they had sex multiple times a day, Eden always insisted on having a quick shower afterwards. Mostly to clean up his release as Harry always insisted in coming inside of her. After they had established a no-condom rule and Eden briefly opened up about how she was unable to carry children, he was quickly on board. 

They were only sleeping with each other and since a pregnancy scare wasn’t in the cards for them, there was no reason to deprive them of the pure pleasure of having raw sex.

And if he didn’t come inside of her, he’d come on her face or her tits. Never in her mouth. He loved it too much, watching his release drip down her body.

They were a great match, sexually, and it proved in neither of them being able to keep their hands off of one another in the past few weeks.

Eden had to admit she hardly spent time with her father over the course of the summer. She was more around Harry’s place than anything, sneaking over in the middle of the night without alerting anyone. Her father assumed she made friends somewhere, not knowing she spent most of her nights next door in the neighbour’s bed. 

Harry knew that once she left he’d still find bobby pins and parts of her scattered around his house. Her shampoo in his shower, her favourite tea in his cabinet, the dog toys she purchased for Sadie and Lola one day, her panties in his laundry. And her scent in his sheets.

She’d cuddle into Harry at night, the hot Italian air not stopping her from seeking the warmth of his body as she curled herself around him. He’d stir awake to roll around, grip her waist to tug her into his chest. And then they woke up with Eden breathing into his neck, her legs locked around his hips.

He had to admit the bed would feel big without her here.

But she was leaving. Today. Eden had been searching for jobs and finally got an offer back in London. She started in a few days and had to set some stuff up back at home, so she booked a flight. Harry could argue that she could work somewhere around here too with a degree like hers, but refrained from asking her.

His chest ached when they were at his front door. Eden closed up the final button of her top before Harry pouted in delight, batting her hands away to undo it again. She giggled as he leaned down to press a kiss to the swell of her breast, “Cancel your flight.” He mumbled into her warm skin. He pushed her against the door and dropped his hands to her ass, kneading her cheeks over the denim of her shorts.

“Harry,” Eden giggled, “I can’t.”

“You can.” He argued, brushing his nose over her collarbone before he kissed her jaw and eventually her lips. She closed her eyes, knitting her fingers in his hair as they kissed softly for a moment against his front door. Sadie and Lola were on the couch, watching the pair intently.

Harry tried to smile as they pulled back, but just couldn’t. He swallowed thickly, realizing he’d fucking miss her once she left. The lump in his throat felt tight and he didn’t know what to do besides kiss her again. Differently this time, and Eden felt it too. She was breathless and spinning as he passionately roamed his tongue around her mouth and fitted his body around hers.

He didn’t want to pull back but had to, gasping for a breath. Swallowing thickly, Harry brushed his nose against hers, “Don’t forget to text me when you land.”

Eden smiled, shaking her head, “I won’t. And I might be back sooner than you think.”

“Yeah?” There was a tinge of hope in his voice and Eden bit her lip, smiling, “Mhm. You know how close I am to my dad. And Colleen.”

He heard the teasing in his voice and breathily chuckled at her joke, “Sure. Your dad and Colleen.” He nodded.

“And the dogs. I’d miss them too much.” Eden continued.

Harry smirked and pecked her lips once more, “Anything else you’d miss?”

“I could think of a few things.” Eden whispered.

Harry smiled and stared into her eyes, “If you’re ever visiting your dad again… don’t be a stranger.”

Eden bit her lip with a smile, “What if I’m in a very committed, serious relationship by then?” She teased.

Harry chuckled, palming her ass to give a squeeze. His lips brushed hers as he smirked softly, “Bring him.”

//

"Hey there, love," he whispers in that raspy, velvety voice that sends shivers down your spine. "You did great out there!" you compliment him, your fingers gently brushing through his damp curls.

He chuckles softly and leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead. "I couldn't have done it without you here, supporting me," he says, sincerity shining in his beautiful green eyes.

You reach for a towel, dabbing away some sweat from his forehead, and he sighs contentedly. "Feels good," he mumbles, leaning into your touch.

"I brought some soothing cream for your muscles," you say, pulling out a small jar from your bag. Harry raises an eyebrow playfully, "Well, aren't you just the best girlfriend ever?"

You giggle, unscrewing the lid, and scoop a generous amount of the cream onto your fingers. Gently, you start rubbing it onto his abs, massaging in slow, circular motions. The contact of your fingers against his warm skin makes you both giggle like teenagers, and you feel a sense of intimacy and closeness that is uniquely yours.

Harry's eyes never leave you as you work your magic, and he can't help but feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life. "Mm, that feels amazing, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. His eyes never leave you as he exaggerates his pleasure by subtly groaning, low enough for you to hear, the sound being all too familiar makes you squeeze your thighs together.

You decide to ignore the ache between your legs and continue to massage the soothing cream, making sure every inch of his abs is covered, "How did I get so lucky to have you?" he wonders lowly, his eyes filled with affection.

"You're pretty amazing yourself," you reply, leaning in to peck his lips softly. The soft, tender moment between you two is filled with unspoken love and appreciation for each other.

As you finish applying the cream, you gently run your fingers along the outlines of his tattoos, tracing the intricate designs. Harry leans into your touch, savoring the closeness between you. "You make me feel so loved, YN," he admits, his voice sincere and filled with emotion.

"That's cause you are baby, you're loved by everyone," you say, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile, reminding him of the impact he has on people which secretly gives him an ego boost but he'll never admit that out loud. "I'm just grateful to be a part of your life."

Harry pulls you into his arms once again, wrapping you in a warm embrace. "I love you," he whispers into your ear, his breath combined with his toned body pressing against you sending tingles down your spine.

"I love you too," you reply, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. In that instant, the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, basking in the sweetness of your love, but that moment is shortlived when you feel his not so subtle erection rubbing against your tummy. You shake your head and laugh, harry's arms never leaving your waist and before he can murmur an apology about his hormones ruining the sweet and innocent moment, you grab his hand and walk backwards until you reach his dressing room, finally pulling him in for another kiss, one that does not share the innocence of your previous one.

They were tiny. Two of the boys were only 3 pounds and a couple ounces, and they were the biggest. 

I could feel this weight on my shoulders as I looked at all four incubators around me and I wanted to just crumple on the floor. 

Two days old, and I already couldn't do it. I couldn't magically make everything easier. 

Harry and I traded off incubators, spending time with each of the babies as nurses came and went before I got wheeled back to my room.

I sat crying in the hospital bed, abruptly trying to supress my sobs when the door opened and in walked Harry. 

His eyes immediately clocked my face, rushing over to soothe me.

"Baby." he said softly, "They're okay. They're healthy. They're going to get stronger. They're going to get off breathing assistance and feeding tubes and we will bring them home." He immediately reassured, almost like he had the same exact talk with himself, before with me. 

"Her entire hand is smaller than the pad of my thumb, Harry!" I cried. 

"She's going to grow." He reminded me, his hands cupping my face, wiping away the tears.

"She was smushed in there!" My body shook.

"She's okay, Y/N."

"You don't know that, Harry! You cannot tell me they're fine! They look like they're on the brink of death Harry! They're already fighting for their lives, and they just got here and I can't do anything to help! I can't fucking help them! I'm just fucking stuck here!" I yelled, my body physically shaking as my eyes burned. "Their bassinets don't even have their names on them! They're.. they're..." I broke down, my wail bouncing off the walls of the room. "They don't even have identities yet." I cried. 

"They have names, Y/N." Harry said softly.

"They don't know that!"

"They wouldn't even if they weren't in incubators."

I glared at him, wanting to punch him whilst also wishing he would hold me and make everything feel better.

"I have four nameless babies, stuck in a incubator with feeding and breathing tubes and heart monitors and heat lamps and I can't even hold them, Harry. I can't do skin to skin yet. I can't feed them. I can't change their diapers. It's been two days! Two days, Harry!" I exclaimed, watching Harry take a deep breath.

"You're not the only one, Y/N. You don't think I wish I could do those things too? I'm cherishing getting to see them at all, Y/N. I would also love to hold, and cuddle and feed my babies. You're not the only one, but I also know, they're our new, freshly born babies, and we will never get this exact moment with them ever again." 

"At least you can see them." I grouched, leaning back carefully in my hospital bed, thankful for the heavy medication they've given me for my cesarean wound. 

"If you're mad, and you need to take it out on me, just tell me that, but at least tell me you're not mad at me." Harry said softly, watching me.

"I'm not mad at you." I said slowly, Harry nodding. "I just.. everything that I dreamt about.. isn't playing out at all. I didn't get to push our baby out of my vagina, and you cut the cord and have the normalcy.. I just... even now, I still can't see my own children whenever I want and it's incredibly frustrating. Do you know how insane it is to be told you can only see your baby during visiting hours until they're a bit stronger? I can't camp out in there even if I wanted to, because I have to be watched and monitored and recover as well."

"I understand, but we will bring them home. To bring them home though, they need to be alive, and those breathing tubes, and feeding tubes, and heart rate monitors are doing just that. They're keeping all four of our babies alive, baby. It's going to be hard. We're both going to cry, and get mad, but they're two days old. We're all just trying to get through this, together. the doctors, the nurses, you, me, them... we'll look back on today, and remember how hard it is, whilst we're cuddling them on the couch or they're screaming our ears off in highchairs. Today, will not be forever. I understand, and hear your frustrations, I feel them as well... but at the end of the day baby, we have four alive babies. You had four babies cut out of you, Y/N. Just a year ago we didn't think you'd ever get pregnant, and here we are today, with four babies. Yes, things are hard right now.. but this is all we've ever wanted, and now we have it. Days are going to be hard, and situations might not look how you've dreamt them..." he paused, moving closer, wiping my tears and kissing my lips softly. "We're parents, Y/N. You and me. We have four babies, biologically at that. Soak in the good, and breathe through the bad. All those negative pregnancy tests, all those egg retrieval treatments and the semen counts and the abdominal shots... we have four beautiful babies. We did it." He kissed me again and I nodded slowly, apologizes falling from my lips as I hugged him.

"I love you." I told him, sniffling.

"I love you, Y/N Styles." 

I smiled up at him before asking for a tissue, Harry joked about me ruining the mood, passing it over before sitting in the chair next to me. 

"You need to rest, love. Our babies need a strong mumma as well."

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ynstyles

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♡ liked by: annetwist, yourbff, yourmom and 226,347 others

ynstyles: People have asked me what it was like to be pregnant with quadruplets, and yes it was a blessing, but it also was hard. Besides the basic pregnancy experiences, and the high risk pregnancy, my belly got HUGE, which is wild to me considering just how small the kids are.. but imagine carrying like 3 watermelons on your stomach. That might be what this felt like. Then add the swelling, the nausea, everything. It was hard. It was incredibly difficult. People also never guess you're pregnant with multiple babies, and if they do, just twins, so you often hear "Wow, that's gonna be one big baby." Which is really hard to hear looking back on, because of just how hard premie babies struggle. Sorry Karen, it wasn't a really big baby. It was actually four babies, that are now basically on life support. I thought my whole pregnancy my belly was ruining my body. I couldn't get it out of my head how I'd look afterwards.. and honestly? it does cross my mind, but at the end of the day, this belly carried four babies. It's funny to look back on how heavy the belly felt, knowing the biggest baby was only 3 pounds and 5 ounces. I'd say the hardest part, is the comments from strangers when they see you. I'd be 15 weeks pregnant, and they'd be shocked my due date wasn't right around the corner. I gave birth prematurely, and my belly was a lot larger then, than it was when people made comments to me. Yes I knew I was having multiples, but peoples comments and or fascination with ones body still hits the same. Some people just have big bellies, and small babies. Just because one is pregnant, doesn't change the fact that it is still their body. That is their stomach you're commenting on. The way it looks, the marks on it, the way the belly button protrudes. Pregnant woman don't deserve less, just because there's a reason for it. It all can still hurt the same.  I've welcomed four beautiful babies with that belly, but that belly is still mine. 

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