#solo 1d

Harry's smell still lingers on your clothes as you silently walk down the residence’s long hallway. Any trace of purple on your lips now far gone, and holding the pair of black combat boots you’d left your room with in one of her hands, since you had decided to remove them at the entrance, for the sake of any sleeping neighbors you might have.

Your socked feet pat quietly against the unclean flooring tiles. A silly smile you aren’t aware of painted on your lips as you recall your favorite parts of the conversations you had with Harry throughout the night. There is something wild pumping in your veins, something that is making you want to run back the yards that now separate you from him. You want to come knocking on his door, slither into his bed and fall asleep with the awareness of his body being right there, glued to yours in a sleepy warm embrace. You won’t go though. Not only because you need to change your pad, get something to eat, take off your make-up and brush your teeth, but also because even though Harry seems to enjoy your company, he didn’t invite you to stay the night with him. And you really don’t want to come off as pushy or obtrusive by showing up at his door uninvited in your cuffed pajama bottoms at 3am.

The desire still haunts your mind though, as you cattily rotate the knob and push your dorm’s door open, careful not to wake your roommate, and- “Where have you been?” Ameena’s familiar voice startles you. She was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed, waiting for you in pitch darkness like a mom waiting for her unreliable teenage daughter to come home after a night out. “What are you doing still awake?” You hiss, flicking the light up on your way inside. “Waiting for you... Obviously.” She flat out acknowledges. “Where did you go? And don’t even think about lying to me because I know you’ve told our friends you were with me, only I-” She takes her hand to her chest. “haven’t seen you all night.” You shrug lightly. “I was with Harry.” You say in the most flat-out tone possible as you hurry on removing your practically homemade costume piece by piece, hoping Ameena would mistake your casualty for a clear conscience. “Oh.” She voices, with an unexpected punch of surprise in her tone, making you tilt your head to look in her face. “No, I knew that.” She clarifies swiftly. “I just wasn’t expecting that you would admit to it so quickly.” “You did?" Your brows pinch alarmingly. "How?" You should've left it at that, you really should've... but you don't. Instead you ask something stupid, that only fuels Ameena's glimmerings even more. "Did you... uh... see anything weird?” “Why?" She pushes, as her face screws with inquisitiveness, and perhaps some amusement as well. "Was there anything weird for me to see?” “No, no..." You try shaking your head to give emphasis to the word, but it's not working. "I was just wondering how you could be so sure.” You add, albeist jittery and feeling like, at this point, your face might've as well just have the word 'blameworthy' written all over it. “Because he went missing as well, at the same time you did…” “That doesn’t mean anything. There were lots of people at that party.” You dismiss her statement, throwing your used party clothes over your desk with a conclusive huff. “I’m gonna go make myself a bowl cereal." You inform fleetly, as you start kicking out the slippers half hidden under your bed before clumsily sliding your feet inside them. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?” “I want you to quit trying to throw dust into my eyes and talk to me about what is going on between you two once and for all.” Ameena asked, groaning with annoyance. “Oh, and-" Her face lights up and she raises her finger up to call your attention. "a packet of java chip oreos, please. And one of your mango juice boxes as well, since you asked.” **

Roughly five minutes later you were walking back inside the room and watching your roommate’s tired expression lift as you threw the juice and packet of coffee flavored cookies at her.

She tore it apart immediately, moaning mid-bite like the cookie she'd just shoved in her mouth was the best piece food she'd ever had in her life. “Why do sweet treats always taste so much better when you’re supposed to be on a diet?”

“I have no idea," You sat in your bed facing her, bending your body in a similar cross-legged position just so that you could position the bowl filled with your favorite cereal over your lap. "but it’s 3am... no one’s eating healthy at 3am anyway.”

“Agreed. 3am is for sugary snacks and unappeasable mistakes only.” Ameena said as she tore open the wrapping of the box’s small straw, pulling and bending it before poking it through the box. “Speaking of mistakes…” She remarked, taking the pink straw between her teeth and sucking lightly. “Are you planning to tell me what you’ve been up to tonight or are you going to make me guess? Cause I’ve got a whole list of sacrilegious options I’ve been conjuring while you were gone, and I would be more than happy to-”

“No! No, thank you. There’s no need to go there.” You held your hand out to stop her from speaking any further, right as you took a calculated spoon of cereal to your mouth, chewing slowly as you debated on how to go on about the whole thing. Should you cut the crap once and for all and tell her everything? Should you just paint the big picture? or should you stick to your initial plan and keep things just between you and Harry?

But with the way your friend was gawking and wiggling in place, you could she was starting to get hot under her collar with the sudden muteness from your part, so you figured the least you could do was tell her the nuts and bolts of your night. “Honestly not much," You say, still partly chewing. "We just went for a beer...”

"And...?" A grin pulls at her mouth, eager to finally get some enlightenment on her speculations.

"And then he brought me home. -- that's it.”

"Hm." The curly-haired girl hummed over the ruffling sound of the wrapper, as she stuck her fingers back inside and dug for another cookie. “Was that all? Didn’t anything else happen?” She locked eyes with you, squinting some. “Didn’t he like, try to make a move to kiss you or anything?”

“Um…” You peeped at her from the top of your lashes, with your lips wrapped around the metal spoon you'd just taken to your mouth. “We uh, I guess we both kind of did, yeah.”

Ameena chokes bad on her cookie then, some fractions of it flying directly from her mouth as she coughs with surprise. “Okay, … What the fuck?!” She's still coughing, and you're debating on wether it's really necessary for you put down your cereal and come help, but as you start to get up she holds her hand out to stop you. “You’ve been pining over that man for months. How are you not screaming in happiness right now?”

“Excuse me?” You babbled offendedly. “I have not been pining over him.” “Yes, you have! But either way… you just kissed the guy! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She insisted, waving her hand in front of her face and slowly draining on her juice to try and stop the stubborn intermittent coughs still going. “Oh no… it wasn't good, was it? Was it awkward? Did you smack teeth?” “Okay… um, so... There’s something I’ve got to tell you." You start aprehensively. "I know I should’ve told you earlier but... Tonight wasn’t the first time." Ameena's jaw drops some with surprise, and if you weren't so nervous, perhaps you would've laughed at the way her lips started pumping at nothing, seeking for the straw that wasn't there. "We’ve actually been seeing each other… occasionally,” You made sure to remark. “… for a month and some…” “Define seeing each other..." She eggs on, shaking away her bewilderment. "Like, how far have you…”

“Pretty far…” You purse your lips, nodding your head as you reminisce. “Like, almost all the way far…”

“Shut the fuck up. No, you haven’t. Have you? Oh my god, have you seen his dick?” You opted not to answer her, but your face did it for you. Or so you realized once she took a big gasp and looked at you like you had just confessed to have hosted a spa day without her. “You’re a whore for not telling me.” She tells you, no pinch of grace to her stance besides the choke that escapes her once she notices the sudden starkness of your face. “Well maybe... but it’s not like you did better, is it?” You yammer back at her, and immediately she shifts a little in place. If you had not just came out of such a noisy party, you're sure you would've be able to hear her heart jump in her chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She challenges.

“It means," You start, unable to stop yourself from smiling a little at your own wittiness. "I found something the other day that made your crush on that Scottish guy from Outlander start making a whole lot more sense... That being that you have a thing for redheaded beefy guys with beards and pretty blue eyes.”

“How did you find out?” Ameena gasps, although she doesn't seem taken aback, she's more surprised than anything else.

"Find out what?" You're totally acting like a smarty pants now. "That you have a thing for redheaded beefy guys or that you're dating Vincent?"

"The last one." She grumbles.

“Oh, that would be cause I caught you at school the other day.” You reveal, unable to stop a little proud grin from showing up into your face when you see her purse her lips, musing over her past secret encounters with Vincent, trying to figure out when and where you could've seen them. “And, although it's a very unexpected pairing, I actually think you look really cute together…”

“Really? You think so?”

“Yeah, and well... I can't really say I know Vincent, since I only talked to him once or twice, but he seems really chill and sweet." You allege honestly, retrospecting over that time he went out of his way to help you, a practical stranger, that time you had your major freak out episode at Madison's birthday party. "And it’s not even like oh, they make a nice pair because they’re both cute, it was the way you guys were acting around each other. It was so precious! I don’t know how to explain it better, but it felt like a good match.”

“Aww… Really? It makes me so happy that you thought that... And same! About you and Harry.” You rolled your eyes at her, figuring that she was only returning the compliment to make you happy. “No, I’m serious… You know I’ve always shipped you lot together, even though I figured Harry to be a bit of an ass. Vincent always says he’s great though... He just happens to look a bit intimidating 'cause he frowns a lot.”

“Yeah…” You smile to yourself, thinking back to when that same thought had occurred to you when talking to Harry for the first time. “He’s actually sort of a mush-ball beneath the surface, believe it or not.”

“Really? Does that mean he’s sweet and not like, you know… super dominant in bed?”

“Ameena…”

“Come on… He’s freaky, isn’t he?” She's wallowing in it now, basking on the way you're growing all hot and bothered over her prying. “Does he make you call him Sir while you’re at it?”

“No, he doesn’t. But if he did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Come on… You can’t not tell me. It’s Harry we’re talking about." You brush her off with a shake of your head, placing your finished bowl of cereal over your nightstand and getting up from the bed in order to go use the bathroom. "It’s practically community dick with how much it’s constantly in everyone’s mouths- Metaphorically speaking of course!” She only adds the last part when you tosses her shoulder with a displeased 'heyyy'.

You know what she means though. Ever since first week Harry and his prick have remained a constant topic of discussion during the freshmen's rehearsal breaks. Which is partly why you skip them as much as you can. Not only because it enfuriates you beyond belief to hear others spitting out hunches about what shape and size he must be, but also because you're sure one day you'll lose it and jump at someone's throat amidst them sharing a dirty fantasy where Harry has them up against a cherry tree or some shit. “What do you want me to say? He’s… nice, great even! I’m obviously not going to go into details about his dick, but I think we get along pretty well when it comes to… sexy stuff.” You're already cringing at yourself for using that term, but Ameena only seems mildly happy with the answer she’s got, so you make yourself continue. “He likes to take care of me… always makes sure I’m comfortable with what we’re doing… He’s sweet, and hot and-"

Your phone dings, and you reach out to check it. "...and I’m fucked.” You cuncur as you read the texts popping up in your phone.

[Harry: How do I get this purple lipstick off my face?]

[Harry: Also, why are you not in my bed?]

"Was that him?" Ameena pokes, noticing you smiling silly at your phone.

You sigh all pampery. "Is it stupid that miss him already?"

“No... it's not stupid. I'm like that with Vincent all the time as well..." She chuckles, shaking her head amusedly. "So... you really like Harry, huh?"

"Yeah." You smile, nodding affirmatively. "He makes me feel happy."

You weren't feeling happy with Harry.

And you had a good reason for it.

He had decided to do a little number on you... by sending you a text on friday night saying that he had been checking the other day and you still had a couple of burpees to do before he could bring your punishment to a close.

Which had already kicked off a bit of a bellyache on you.

Because well, you had kind of assumed you had silently agreed on letting those slide, since he never brought up the punishing again, even after you were done with the chaotic school assignment weeks.

But no, the fact that you were going to have to waste part of your saturday sweating a couple of hundreds of burpees off your body, instead of feasting on a fancy italian latte and a cinnamon bun with your best friend like you usually did, although being a sucky situation, still wasn't the reason why you were upset.

No. You were upset because the little shit had lied to you!

When you showed up at the usual parking lot on saturday morning as scheduled, fresh out of bed, cold, sleepy eyed and looking like a right mess in yoga pants, sports shoes, a sweater that didn't really match your outfit that well and your backpack stuffed with a reusable water bottle and half a box of granola bars, you were expecting to find Harry in a similar sporty, casual outfit, like the ones he usually wore the times he penciled your punishment appointments last minute on weekend days.

Except this time, that wasn't the case. He showed up looking like a right dream.

He was bearing down against his car, dressed in black jeans and ankle boots (ever so typical of him), a cornflower blue sweater that fit him like a glove and brought out the color of his eyes, and a padded bomber jacket that made him look all cushy and warm and somehow made you want to go and hug him ever more.

Even his hair looked particularly nicer, for god's sake.

The layers had been slicked back with some sort of wax, but somehow his fluffy waves remained as dainty and unruly as ever, bouncing beautifully every time the morning breeze blew over them.

"Good mornin' sunshine." He'd greeted merrily as soon as he spotted you walking over, looking crabby, snoozy and like you'd much rather still be out of his, and the rest of the world's sight.

"Mornin." You replied briefly, feeling your limbs ivoluntarily twist in a big stretch. "What's with all the primping today?" You nod towards his outfit playfully, ready to start some casual banter. "Are you going on a date after this or something?"

"I am." The teasing smile drops of your face instantly, being replaced by an expression of sudden alarm, with bulging eyes and a lowered jaw but then he grins at you. "We are, actually."

"What?" Your mind is confused ... and so is your body, because now there's sparkly butterflies growing from places you'd just felt were ripped to pieces by feral, ruthless fangs.

"Sweet baby," Harry's grinning at you from ear to ear. "You should've seen your face..." His teasing, although sweet, is not helping the angry blood still sizzling inside your veins ever the slighest. "Did you get jealous thinking that I was going out with some pretty girl that wasn't you?" "Why would I get jealous?" You huff, putting your backpack down on the sidewalk and sitting next to it. "Also, what do you mean we're having a date? I'm noway ready to go anywhere dressed like this."

"Rubbish..." Harry starts, sitting on the sidewalk next to you. "It was supposed to be a surprise, so I obviously wasn't expecting you to show up all dolled up, you know?"

"Then what the hell were you thinking was going to happen?"

"I don't know." He huffs, smiling a little at the same time. "I just wanted to see you... and hopefully spend a nice day together." Your heart feels warm. Warm and happy inside your chest besides the angry pout displayed on your face. "Which was maybe a shit idea if you're about to turn me down."

Harry's looking at you like a sad puppy and you hate it. Hate that his eyes are making you feel like a terrible owner about to push their pet out the door while it's raining and there's a thurderstorm approaching in the sky. "I'm not turning you down..." You start, immediately watching his face warm. What is only making you feel worse as you carry on with your stance. "I'm turning your date invitation down. Today, specifically." He pouts a little at the news. "Why?"

"Harry, look at me!" You chuckle warmheartedly, uprising and flashing your oversized, sports sweater at him. "I look hideous! There's no way I'm going anywhere with you all spruce and looking like a dreamboat while I have this and cheap yoga pants on." His head drops a little, so you bring your finger to his chin and push it up. "You know I'll be more than happy to go on a date with you anytime, as long as you give me a couple hours notice just so that I can get ready."

"But I like your yoga pants..." Harry insists, tilting his head and giving your outfit a quick once-over. "They make your butt look peachy." He heckles, making you gasp and smack over his bulky shoulder, pretending to be more offended than you are. "Can never win with you, can I?" He puffs, getting up from the sidewalk. “Either way," He picks and bunts your heavy backpack over his back before he starts walking towards his car. You're staring at him confusedly as you watch him open the trunk and throw your bag in there. "Date or no date we'll still have to drive past IKEA." Your eyebrows irk. "I saw online that they have lava lamps like your roommate's one that we broke. You know her better than I do, so you should be able to figure out which one she'll like most.” You don't want to go to IKEA. You want to drag Harry with you back to the dorms and force him to watch Knives Out with you. Preferably under a blanket, whilst sharing a box of buttered microwave popcorn, all cozy and snug so that maybe he will let you hold his hand during the suspense parts.

But now Harry wants to go to IKEA...

And you're not ready to give on his company yet. "Okay fine..." You shrug defeatedly, "I guess my yoga pants might be good enough for shopping at 9am on a saturday..." With no more 'ifs' or 'buts' you walk towards the car, where Harry awaits you with a happy grin as he opens the passenger's door for you. “Since there is no date," He tips as you're about to to slide into your seat. "can I charge you for the kiss now?”

“No.” You nudge, facetiously as you step inside the car.

"What?" He shakes his head confusedly and bends down, sticking his head inside the car after you. “Not even a little one?” You laugh a bit, leaning over and giving a lusty smooch over his cheek because he looks right cute and you can't say no to him, especially when he's sulking at you like he is now.

He gives you a cheek kiss back, before retracting and pushing your door closed. Just as swiftly he climbs into the drivers seat, flicks his seatbelt on, adjusts the mirrors and starts the car. "If it makes you feel better, I didn't have anything proper planned for today... not like a fancy restaurant or anything like that..." He pats your knee, giving it a light squeeze before drawing his hand back to the stirring wheel. "With that said, you're sitting in my car now... so I guess I get to do with you as I please... and that includes taking you with me anywhere i feel like going."

"Huh?" You question, tilting your body towards him the best you can with the seatbelt on.

"You heard it right." Despite the spiritedness in his smile, you can tell by the solemn look in his face as he spares a quick glance in your direction that he's being serious. "I think you look lovely in that sportswear, just the same as when you wear a pretty dress. And since I'm the one taking you out today, I think you should consider my opinion, even if its just this once." You groan with annoyance, crossing your arms and legs and pushing yourself further into the seat. You're a bit worked-up at Harry's approach, but you also can't help feeling flattered that somehow he still finds you pretty when your eyes look puffy and the state of your hair makes it seem like you've just stuck a finger in a light socket. Harry's still staring at you.

You can feel it more than you can see it through the rear view mirror by taking casual glimpses at it.

It's not until after a couple of minutes of silent bemoaning, once your mood finally starts to perk up, that you risk flashing your first smile at Harry through the reflection. It's a mischievious one. And the one you always put on before leaning down towards the car radio to switch his favorite music station for the one you like most.

Your goal of finding the perfect song is quickly forgotten though, once you find yourself in the situation of having to scold your driver for disregarding the speed limits within the university fields. He laughs and shakes his head at your concern, but still takes his foot to the brake and shifts to a lower gear. “Do you drive?” He asks, tilting his head at your for a brief glance.

You move around in your seat a little, inquisitive as to why the question. “No, not yet… Why?”

“Noticed your staring," He says matter-of-factly, taking his hand to the dash to finish what you didn't get to do. "So I thought you were silently judging my gear technique.” He keeps flipping through the stations until you're asking him to stop, since you finally found a song you think it's worth listening to.

“No… I was just looking, no judgement.” You assert, keeping it to yourself that the reason behind your immersion was the size and attractiveness of his hands and not so much the change lever. “Looks complicated.”

He spares you another glance, smiling amusedly. “Wanna try it?”

“Um…" You hiss, fixing your eyes on the gizmo in front of you, while evaluating the proposition. "I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you crash us...” Harry promises, showing off a full and cheerful smile while extending his hand towards you. “C’mon, give me your hand.”

“Where do I…” You buzz with a circular motion of your hand.

“Here,” He said, softly patting the handle. “Just place it here.”

You did what he asked you to, although a little apprehensively. Once your hand was laying there, he moved his palm to rest on the back of your hand, curling his fingers together with yours so that he could still have a firm grip over the handle. “Relax…” He prompted, noticing your stressed-out face. “You don’t have to do anything, just follow my lead…” He said, only proving that he genuinely could not tell that the reason behind your sweaty palms was more so his delicate touching, than the bloody tool you were holding. Good.

Your hand simply remains there for a little while, until you come across your first traffic light. It is one Harry could easily speed through if he wanted, since the light was still shining yellow... but he choses to slow down and let it shift to red instead.

Once the car stills, Harry gently pulls both your hands to neutral, then left, and up to 1 again. “See, it’s easy.” He simpers, shifting his gaze to you briefly before setting his eyes back on the light.

His thumb still carried on petting the soft side of your pinky as he waited for it to change to green. “Should I take it out now?” You ask. Not that you want to pull your hand away, but you were mildly worrying that it was getting in the way of his driving.

He smiled at you. “You can let it stay if you want to… For practice.”

IKEA's showrooms were nice, but not really up your alley if you're honest.

When it comes to house decorations, you're more into those effervescent colors and shapes most people believe should remain inside museums.

You like bubblegum pink feature walls, opulent spaces with too many artworks, rooms divided by archways, mustard yellow couches, ceramic cactus décor, circular mirrors and that 21st century witch aesthetic that is in no way comparable to IKEA’s minimalistic lines.

Their brand new furniture line is exhibited by the front of the store, set inside small custom-built rooms made of thin white walls. They all share the same theme. Practical, but modern. In all warm, earthy tones, with eco-focused furniture pieces and rust, green and blue colored sofas that you and Harry are swerving through as you probe around the store, looking for the lava lamp section.

You end up getting a little lost there, as everyone always does at IKEA stores, but fortunately, you're in good company today, so anytime you get disinterested in looking at furniture, you'll peek at Harry instead.

Well, it’s more the other way around really...

But unlike it happens with boho carpets and ceiling lights, you never get tired of looking at Harry. In fact, you're almost certain you could watch him shuffle through trendy shower curtains throughout the whole day without getting bored.

Harry’s entertaining to look at.

Especially when he spots a home gadget he isn’t familiar with and his eyebrows curve with curiosity as he balances forward over his foot to get a better look… and when he scrunches up his nose at design choices he finds questionable. He isn’t an appreciator of peel-and-stick wallpapers, you're guessing... and you also believe he doesn’t like bedrooms with matching furniture sets and laminate kitchen cabinets trying too hard to pass as real wood.

And yes, you're thinking about it.

How could you not?

You're trying not to entertain the thought, but it’s hard when you've been mistaken for a newlywed couple looking to furnish their brand new house by 4 different employees already.

So your brain is wondering… imagining how waking up besides Harry every morning and coming home to him at the end of a tiring workday would be like.

Curling up on the couch on a sunday afternoon, the balcony windows open because the weather’s sunny. The curtains are flowing in and out and there's a cheesy movie playing on the telly that you've seen way too many times, but still never remember the ending of.

There are two teacups set on the coffee table, but you haven't finished yours yet because you're too busy playing with Harry's hair, braiding it out of boredom. And although he keeps complaining that you're pulling too hard, he makes no effort to push away.

You're guessing you would still bicker over other silly things, though.

Like who's turn it is to load the dishwasher or why there's a paper container thrown in the yellow recycling bin. You can see it vividly in your head... you both disheveled in your pajamas crossing swords in the kitchen.

It gets ugly, and bad and dirty…

But then, in the middle of the argument Harry cracks a toothy smile because you stuttered a word or used a poor choice of an insult on him; It's one of those smiles of his that never fail to knock your socks off and make your insides twist... You feel all madness crumble apart then… and laughing along with him you ask: "We're being idiots again, aren't we?"

You're blaming having these soppy thoughts on Harry entirely.

On the way his hand keeps searching for your lower back to call your attention anytime he feels like asking what color you like most out of an item with multiple color options.

This time it was a room divider.

You said she liked the bamboo one better. He agreed.

Behind the divider there was another room setup. With a white wooden his and hers wardrobe, with multiple doors and sections. Neither of you could resist to opening a couple of doors to have a peek inside, only to get disappointed by finding nothing but empty drawers and woven baskets. Next to the wardrobe was a sitting area, with a nice beige chair, a hanging rack filled with magazines and cute potted houseplant hangers stuck to the walls…

But the star in the room, at least to you, was the small, vintage looking gold side table stuck to the wall. With its thin wavy feet and a storage spot underneath it. “Oh my god!” You fussed, moving around the room as fast as floating body just so that you can reach it.

Evoking the fictional divisions of your dream house, you decided this would be a perfect purchase for the living room… To place right next to the purple velvet couch you also wanted, so that you could slot your favorite scented candle pot over it. And magazines with cool covers, and a magical looking amethyst lamp… A fake one, because not even your idealized self has the money for real crystals.

Either way, you're obsessed with it.

“Harry, look! Isn’t it super cool?” You mewl, turning your head to the side, hoping to get Harry’s validation. “I know it’s very Parisian chic, but on the other hand… it’s like it could perfectly belong in Steven Tyler’s beach house or something.”

He shakes his head amusedly, staring down at you as you kneel next to the table, over the silky caramel brown rug. “I’ll confess I have no idea what Parisian chic looks like, but it looks about perfect for coke snorting, so I’m guessing you’re right about the last part…”

Harry’s hands were behind his back as he carried on inspecting the space. Picking up a couple of decoration items from the shelves to see them up close from time to time.

You notice him reaching for one of the books; a bright yellow one with ‘On Modernism’ written in large bold pink letters on the cover. “It’s a pretty damn cool table though…” He said as he flipped through the pages. What a dummy, you thought, noticing his eyebrows pinching together displeasingly as he finally comes to realize that it was only a decoration prop. “How much is it?” He questioned, closing and jamming the book back in place.

“It’s…” You checked the price tag, solely out of curiosity because no matter how much you loved that table, there was no possible justification to invest in such a fancy piece of furniture at this erratic stage of your life. “Suddenly not so cute...”

You flip the tag in his direction.

“350 pounds for that tiny table?" Harry's eyes widen. "That’s about the same price as this bedframe...” He flops his ass over the meticulously made double bed without any hesitation. “Which is far more worthy, if I say so myself…” He says, letting his body fall back against the oversized olive green coverlet and clasping his hands over his stomach.

“Harry…” You chuckle meekly, getting back on your feet and walking around the bed when you see him press his eyes shut like he was about ready for a nap. “Lift up from there before someone sees you and we get kicked out.”

Your foot never ceases kicking at his ankles until you spot his eyes reopening. “How about you stop worrying so much and just come here and cuddle me?” He soughed sleepily as he stretched his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up enough to give you a quick glimpse of the trail of hair thriving down, towards his crotch. It was enough to bring a warmth to your cheeks and prompt you to shift your gaze away. “Sides, if anyone asks, we can always say our budget’s too tight to invest on a bed without trying it out first. They'll eat that up, don’t you think... wifey?”

You avoided the question by focusing your attention somewhere else, rummaging through a stack of plush bed comforters like you actually meant to buy one. “All I know is that you’re going to fall asleep and I’m going to leave you there.” You admonished once you finally felt gutsy enough to spare the boy another look. Only to realize that his eyes, however dozy, had remained fixed on you.

“I won’t fall asleep, just gimme two minutes...” He gave a blissful sigh, spreading his arms wide over the bedding. “Besides, I know you won’t leave. You’re stuck with me for the day, remember? Unless you’d rather go back to the parking lot to do your burpees...”

“For the day?” You questioned concernedly. “Are you actually planning to take me somewhere else?”

Going to the beach during the cold months is always nice. Ever since you remember, you have always enjoyed it. You like the way the air is misty and smells saltier than it does in the summer. With every breath inhaled, it feels like nature is cleaning your whole body through your lungs. Your lips taste salty and gritty from the sand particles flying around your face, and the coolness of the wind is making your legs feel numb, which isn’t great for running when an unforeseeable wave disperses further than you were expecting, but still... it feels great. The weather was bright that day. The sunrays broke through the clouds and made the salty water glisten silver. There are a couple of gulls mewing in the sky above your head, besides them, there’s no one here. Just you and Harry, strolling down the sand as the ocean waves rapture fiercely against the shore. You had been collecting seashells and hiding them in your pocket throughout your walk, just so you could throw them at Harry when you caught him distracted. He’s given you two warnings so far. “I’m not kidding Y/N.” He'd menaced, “One more and I'm taking you for a bath.” “I’m not scared of you.” You had replied with a snicker as you scampered towards the dunes to make sure he couldn’t get back at you. You do this mostly because you're a natural pesterer, and also because you like to rile Harry up by startling him when he thinks you're done and that there are no more scraps left in her pocket. Except there always are. “Oops.” You smirk devilishly. “Guess there was one more after all.” You laugh when he winces back at you, and that’s when his patience finally snaps and he starts sprinting. You let out a squeak and start running, but it’s pointless. Harry’s legs are longer and faster, and his body is more resilient to the way his feet cave into the icy sand as he trails after you. Your only hope now is that he won’t be able to pick you up… but he is. He grabs you from the back and wraps his arms around your middle. “No, no, no!” You’re blubbering the word repeatedly, kicking to try skirmishing away from his hold… but it’s not working; he’s still dragging you towards the sea. “No, Harry, please... it’s too cold… please don’t.” “Oh it’s cold, is it? Should’ve though of that earlier.” You’re pushing up your legs, trying to climb up Harry’s body as his feet finally reach the shoreline. “Last chance. Say sorry.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry." You’re whimpering at that point, grabbing zealously onto Harry’s forearms that encase your waist just in case he decides to drop you. "I’ll do anything, just not the water... please.” "Anything I want?" "Yes! Anything you want. Just please, put me down." At that, Harry eases you back down over safe and dry land. Even helping you swab your pants clean on the places the sand had stuck from the little tussle you'd put up as he carried you. “So..." You cut the silence whilst he's still wiping over your calf. It’s not a question yet, but your phrasing is already speculative in a way. "Have you decided whats for me to do yet?” “Hmm…” He takes a moment to ponder, “There's something..." He grants as he resumes his walking by the sea. You follow beside him, just as nervous as you are curious to find out what the words coming out of his mouth next are going to be. "I just don’t know if it counts.” “Well, it was me who said anything, so…” Your shoulders jerk winsomely. “Shoot your shot.” You watch Harry’s lips part, figuring he’s about to request something, but his mouth remains quiet, apart from the tongue that pokes out some to spruce his lips, that had gone a bit dry from the cold. Before you know it he's reaching out for your hand and bringing you to an halt. "What was that for?" You ask, but no further words follow your question. It's just Harry's index that comes to cradle your face, dragging a slow shape over your cheek as he stares deep into your eyes, then your lips, then your eyes again. Oh. The tips of your noses press together instinctively, halting for a moment

before Harry finally dares to pump the question. “I want for you to kiss me, is that alright?” “Yes." You say a bit weakly. "yes, I want to kiss you.” Untamed locks of hair feel feathery against your skin when the sea breeze envelops your bodies for the millionth time that day, only this time when you breath in, Harry’s scent overpowers the unmistakable saltwater one. It’s evocative and musky, yet subtly sweet like vanilla… and your mouth is hoggish for a taste. “Then you better start being nice to me.” Harry larks, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before he takes off running, leaving you standing perplexed facing the sea. He laughs when he looks back at you, noticing the slight outraged pout on your lips. “Come on, don’t give me that face." He takes his hand to his chest dramatically. "It’s breaking my heart.” “You’re evil.” You establish, advancing afoot alongside the coast and walking past Harry without sparing him any more of your attention. You’re not really upset since you know he’s just teasing as revenge, but being deprived of something you want after it being just a breath away always sucks… And the feeling’s even worse when it’s Harry’s kisses, apparently. “And you’re not?” He jogs until he is walking by your side again. “I've taken you out, offered you lunch, brought you to the beach... and yet, all you've done for me since we've gotten here is throw things and kick sand at my feet.” He contends, “You also didn’t kiss me earlier when I asked, so it’s only fair you don’t get to do it now.” "You kidnapped me." Your mouth opens vexedly. "And for the record, I didn't even want to kiss you that much... was only going to do it because you asked." You mumble something of sorts, although in reality you're an absolute sucker for Harry's kisses. To the point of getting annoyed at yourself for not being able to control the itch you get anytime you stare at his mouth. And you've been staring a lot today… Anytime you do, the memories of gone by encounters flood your brain and leave your body sizzling with yearn to feel the dampish warmth of his tongue again. You want Harry's attention. Want him to kiss you, hold your hand or show any type of affection that will make the angsty heart jitters go away. That is also why you've been nagging him with seashells and silly provocations throughout the whole day... You just want him to do something! anything! Before you can get any more desperate though, you're saved by the bell. Well, not an actual bell but Harry’s phone starts ringing in his pocket. He stares at the screen for a while, as if debating if he should take the call or not, but ultimately ends up swiping towards green and taking the device to his ear. You make yourself fall behind purposefully as he does, not wanting to seem like a busybody nor to accidentally listen to something he might rather you didn't. He’s walking in circles, punting at the sand as he talks with his eyes set on the horizon. Sometimes he'll take a peek at you as well, which for some reason is giving you a bad feeling... Not bad as if something terrible has happened, but judging by his body lenguage, he seems a bit more downcast than he did minutes ago before he took the call. And as much as you don't want to pry, you can't stop yourself from asking if something's wrong when he comes to meet you again, with both his hands hiding in his pockets and his face a bit scrunched because the wind is blowing directly in it. “No, it’s just…” He wipes the tip of his nose. “My mom’s printer broke.” He says, taking a big throaty breath before speaking again. “And now she needs me to come over and see if I can fix it...” “Oh.” Caught off guard, that’s all you muster to say. You're hoping your face doesn’t let on the fact that you're feeling fairly saddened at the news that your walk had come to a precipitant end. But luckily, Harry cuts your worries short.

“You could come with me if you wanted to.” He suggests without apprehension. “I live close by anyway, so it would only be a tick.” Your brows dip with confusion. “How close is close by?” “Roughly a 30 minute drive, I think.” His right hand shoots up, combing through his knotty hair once before being shoved back inside the sweater. “I have a heavy foot so let’s make that 25.” “Wait,” You shake your head some with bewilderment. “So you live… here?” “Hum... not here-here, but in the surrounding area, yeah.” “I don’t get it.” It’s true, you really don’t. “Why don’t you just go home every day then?” “I tried that last year, actually… but honestly, it was shit.” Harry sighs idly at the memory. “Any time I went out with my friends or to a party I ended up having to crash on some poor student’s couch because I was too fucked or too tired to drive." He pauses, taking a big breath in. "So, I figured this year it would be better to get myself a room here. That way I can go home when I want to… and even if I don’t go, I still have my own bed to sleep on. And I’m sure my parents don’t mind not listening to me practice for hours every day, the neighbors too.” You're listening attentively; eating up every word he’s saying since he doesn’t usually tend to share much of his trials and tribulations with you. “Either way,” He simpers charmingly. “Do you want me to drive you back or are you going to come along?”

From the moment you'd accepted Harry's invitation to accompany him on his little familiar duty, you'd been feeling a mellow squeeze in your belly.

It was a curious and eager squeeze... like the one you get when your crush sends you a unexpected text or your favorite celebrity shows up on the tv show your parents are watching. Okay... perhaps there was also some, not so pleasant, nervous gut squeezing into the mixture... that prompted you to spent the whole car trip chewing on your fingers and staring out the window wondering if you'd gotten there yet.

But overall, you were excited!

To finally get to know such a big part of Harry's world: The place he calls home, where he's grown to became the person he is today. The first one he always comes to when he has got good news to tell... or for comfort when things go really wrong... like that time he fell in the back street's playground when he was 9 and almost scraped his chin off on the floor's tar.

And to think you'll even get to meet the person who got to wipe and cleanse that wound until it healed to become the scar on his face, hidden under his stubble, that you love to kiss over...

All your excitement only grows twice as big, once you finally witness Harry unlock the front door of his family's apartment unit, where you were immediately greeted by the incoming, destinctable sound of echoey scratches against slippery oaky floorings.

“There he comes…” Harry announced with little enthusiasm, right as a small structure dog comes sliding down the hallway with dark thrilled rounded eyes, flappy ears and silky waves of white and brown fur that you can’t wait to play with, since its expression is nothing short of melting sweet.

Until he spots you standing next to Harry, that is.

Then it’s teeth out, followed by a slam-bang of menacing barks and growls.

“Enough of that, little pest.” Harry shakes the jumpy dog away from the door with a soft pat of his feet. “Don’t be scared…” He avows once you grab onto his upper arm and push yourself a little behind. “That’s Pepper. He's harmless... just has a thing for growling at visitors until we close the door.”

Without further ado, Harry steps inside. Compelling you to follow suit although still skeptically shielding behind him. As promised, as soon as the door is pushed shut, the dog’s protesting appeases and instead of barking, he’s springing around with his tail wagging. Panting with excitement as he takes turns between leaping and scratching at its owner’s legs and ferociously sniffing your sneakers.

“See, he’s just silly.” Harry comments, bending down over his knees and coddling the pet’s whole body like he’s being demanded to do by the eager little creature, that is more than happy jumping over Harry’s thighs and smooching up his whole face with dribbly dog kisses. Where do you sign up to get your dog rights?

“What breed is he? He’s gorgeous.” You try petting over Pepper’s back experimentally while he is still relishing on Harry’s embrace. He doesn’t seem to mind the extra attention, so you end up crouching down as well.

You're stroking the fur with a little more grit now, overflowed with joy when the dog decides you're worthy of getting slobber on her chin as well. “He’s a mutt.” Harry says. “Back at the shelter where we got him, they said his mom was one of them Spaniel breeds… ‘s why he looks like that. Not that it would’ve mattered what he looked like, he’s the cutest pup in the world.”

You don’t know how or why you muster up the courage, but you find yourself smirking and mumbling something along the lines of “The cutest pup for the cutest owner, seems fitting.” You force your eyes to stay trailed on the Pepper’s soft fur afterwards, since you can feel Harry’s attention turning to you.

You sense he’s a little baffled, as if not sure he’s heard you well, but before he can say something back, his attention is pulled to the apartment’s corridor, where there are now approaching human steps and an urgent call of his name. “Harry, darling… I’m so glad you’re here. That stupid shit printer- Oh!” The person covers her mouth with surprise. “You brought a friend!” “Hi mom.” He greets jovially before he moves to introduce the two strangers in the room. “This is Y/N… Y/N, this is mom.”

Harry’s mom was beautiful.

Too beautiful for a mom, even... whatever that means.

She had a great smile, radiant skin and a pair of astonishingly blue eyes you're finding hard not to glare at.

She’s definitely a cool mom too. At least judging by her red suede jacket, her choice of earrings for the day and the sparkly nail polish she has on.

“Hello darling. How are you?” She comes to greet you with a kiss in each cheek. Her skin is little crimson and damp around the face and neck with what you assume to be nervous sweat, and her hair’s a bit blowsy, like she’s already ran her hands through it too many times. She smells beautiful though, like classic perfume and anti-aging moisturizing cream… like most mom’s do. “I’m sorry if I seem a little startled… I’m in a bit of a rush but can I offer you anything? A coffee? Some tea?”

“Oh no, I’m okay. Thank you.” You dismiss politely, not wanting to be a bother.

“Are you sure?” The woman frets. “I’ve made fresh iced tea last night. The recipe’s one from the internet that I haven’t tried yet, so I don’t know if it’s tasty… Maybe it is best I ask Harry to try it first. Harry…” She tilts her body to look at her son.

You guess she’s about to ask him to go fix himself a cuppa, so you claim that you’re fine once more, and that it’s really not necessary but you have a feeling she’s still not dropping the subject. “Mom… didn’t you just say you were in a rush?” Harry hurries her back to the topic of your visit before she gets any more distracted with being a good host. “I’ll accommodate Y/N afterwards, let’s just get the printer fixed first...”

“Right.” Anne nodded, hurrying on her way out the entrance hall. Harry followed her, inviting you to come along with a gentle touch of his hand. “It ran out of paper as usual. I tried to fill it, but it got stuck and I was too scared to pull on the sheets… so I started clicking buttons, hoping there was one that would make it… expel.” The woman explained, emphasizing that last word by pushing her hands out and extending her fingers repeatedly.

You smiled a bit at the gesture, recognizing that Harry’s proneness to talk with his hands a lot probably came from his mom. “I managed to get the papers sorted out, but now I can’t get it to print. I think I broke it, Harry… I think I broke it for good.”

Harry’s lips form a sneery smile at his mom’s disclosure before he speaks. “Mom, as I’ve told you hundreds and hundreds of times before...” He sighs with facetious exasperation, placing both his hands on his mom’s shoulders and giving them a reassuring shake. “You don’t just break electronics by pressing buttons! You’ve probably misconfigured it or something.”

“Does that mean you can fix it?”

“It means I can try.”

Harry ends up fixing the printer rather quickly.

Because it turned out that the issue was one he had already fixed a couple of times before.

You'd heard him explain it to his mom briefly... that there was some sort of communication glitch between the printer and the computer, after the paper jam occured, or something about a pre-programmed response from the computer to protect printer...

You weren't listening that well...

But either way, all he had to do to fix it was restart the printer and the computer; -- whilst his mom looked at him in awe, before she was peppering him with kisses and praises like she truly believed her son to be the next Steve Jobs on the rise.

He also made sure to double-check the tray.

Which was a smart move because it turns out his mom had over-filled it. What would ultimately result in another paper-jam, had he not sectioned and squared off the stack of sheets properly before putting them back.

He'd only knitted his brows and glared a at his mom a little over the acident. "Really, mom?" He'd baited jokingly.

"What?" She'd replied abashedly. "You know I don't do well with technology." Harry had only shaken his head before he took it upon himself to print the document for her. You figured he'd decided to save her the embarassement and spare the witty comebacks for later, when you weren't there to hear them.

Which was sweet of him, you thought.

But not nearly as sweet as when he'd covertly squeezed your hand under the home office's desk after he was done and asked if you wanted for him to go fix you anything.

You'd obviously dismissed him just like you did to his mom earlier, but Harry ended up dragging you into the kitchen anyway. Claiming that, since Anne worked as a Food Lawyer, it was best for you to leave her to sort out her papers by herself because there might be some super confidential information in them regarding some Golden Hills well-known restaurants. And if you happened to lay your eyes upon it, you would leave them no other choice but to polish you off the face of the earth.

The kitchen was enviably cute.

Long and narrow, decorated with glass mosaic in a selection of beachy and green tones that fit in with the slate blue cabinets just right. The countertops were built in a rosy shade of wood, and so were the table and the kitchen chairs, although the seats are covered with mossy green cushions. It brought out the green in the tiles and the kitchen rug, along with the natural freshness of the aromatic herbs displayed in cute little vases throughout the windowsill.

“I like your kitchen garden.” You had told Harry when you spotted it, even though you knew he was probably not the house resident you should be complimenting for it. It still didn’t stop him from flaunting about the only thing he could take credit for, labelling the vases with the plant names because he could never tell parsley from coriander and it kept getting in the way of his cooking. They get into a bit of banter after that. With you claiming not to believe a simple herb mix up could be to blame for his culinary travesties. Harry defended himself with the promise that he’d cook you his specialty, creamy cherry tomato pasta, sometime soon. “It will blow your mind, babe.” He bid. “You’ll be having wet dreams about it for ages.”

You rolled your eyes and claimed you'd rather pass on the chance of getting food poisoned but in reality, you're planning on nagging him about that pasta until he makes it happen, that’s for sure.

You're rather enjoying Harry's home.

It's comfortable and warm, with sophisticated little touches. Like the leather puff seats in living room you desperately want to lob your ass on, the vintage bulb chandelier hung in the dining room that Harry insists he hates because he keeps smashing his head against it anytime he vaccums the carpet, the hallway ceiling with sensor lights... and the spiced orange smell that lingers through the whole house, coming from the entrance hall, where Anne currently is fishing her car keys out of her shoulder bag.

“Don’t you dare feed that overweight creature while I'm out.” She yells back ar her son, and for a moment your panicky mind wonders if she could be referring to you. It makes you feel self-conscious about your rumbly stomach, because you were actually quite hungry and looking forward to being offered a snack… but maybe you’ll have to wait and starve until you get home. “Hey!” Harry’s face turns into a soft pout. “She’s not overweight… just a little chunky.” You look down at yourself. You're guessing you might have put on a bit of weight ever since moving away from home, but it’s still a bit mean to call you chunky, you think.

Harry peeks his head out of the kitchen, noticing his mom’s still standing by the front door. “Can I give her lettuce?” His face is mischievous as he turns to you for a moment. “That’s healthy right? Just a healthy little snack.”

You're about to ask if you're allowed olive oil with it, when you hear a squeaky noise coming from behind you. You turn, noticing there’s a 3 piece aquarium over the counter. Partly hidden by the microwave, hence the reason you're only noticing it now. Inside of it, lounging under a plastic palm tree was probably the biggest pet turtle you'd ever seen. Big like you would need to use both your hands to hold her... and proper chubby too as well.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten.” Harry’s mom concludes with a sigh, before she’s saying her folksy farewells. She tells you that you're welcome to visit anytime you feel like it, and also that you should feel free to slap Harry’s hand if you see him reach for the sun-dried shrimp treats for Matilda, the turtle.

Harry grumbles that he wasn’t going to, but you have a feeling that’s exactly what he would’ve done if it wasn’t for his mom’s tip-off.

Once the front door clinks shut you’re already standing by the tank, while Harry has moved to the fridge. You’re zestfully staring at the sizable pet, that had just become uneasy from the moment she spotted movement close to her blue plastic tank, as Harry looked through the vegetable’s drawer until he found what he was looking for. You silently appreciated how he was careful to rinse the lettuce before feeding it to his pet.

You carried on talking and feeding Matilda lettuce anytime she came swimming towards you with her sharp little claws, splashing water and scratching the walls like she was trying to climb out.

Sometimes you would tear apart small pieces and drop them in the water for her to fetch, other times you’d shove your hand inside so that she would come nibble directly on the crunchy parts of the leaf. As it couldn’t not be, the feeding session ended up turning into a bit of a friendly combat, with you and Harry chafing each other’s hand away to get Matilda’s attention back on your side, whenever she started munching on the others’ lettuce.

Something that quickly escalated to playful side shoves and poking at each other’s ribs until you were nothing but a mess of giggles.

At one point your gaze flickers to Harry’s face, who’s profile looks impossibly lovelier in this light, right as casually runs his tongue over his lips. Leaving behind a thin layer of saliva that makes them look puffy… and kissable…

And fetching to the point that you only realize you've been staring for way too long when he asks you something.

Your eyes dart away sheepishly as you fix your hair behind your ear. “What was that?” You ask without looking, which is something you only tend to do when you’re feeling particularly shy or embarrassed. Once you finally do look, there is a pleased look on the boy’s face that’s making you wonder if he’s caught onto that already. “I was asking if you want to try mom’s iced tea...”

“Oh no, I’m okay. Don’t bother.” With most of his frame already hidden behind the fridge door, Harry squints his eyes at you, askance of the overly-polite response you’d given him. “I’ll have some if you do.” You reformulated, realizing he was waiting for you to cut the crap and give him a sincere answer.

You watched as his gaze honed back inside of the fridge, making a quick scan through the shelves. “What should we have with it? What are you in the mood to eat?” He queried, picking up the glass pitcher from the fridge’s bottle holder and placing it over the counter.

“Just whatever you feel like having.” You answered coyly, feeling your shoulders shrink slightly inward with senseless timidity.

Harry snorted at your shyness, shaking his head as he reached for two matching tall glasses from the top cabinet and placed them next to the pitcher. “Do you like mug cakes? I haven’t had one in a while and I’m sort of craving something warm and sweet.”

“Yes, I would love a mug cake right now.” You simpered with maybe a little too much excitement. “I mean… if that’s okay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay if I’m the one suggesting it?” Harry mocked your choice of words, before he moved to set the table. You tried offering your help, but he declined it in favor of inviting you to sit down, once he noticed you were still leaning against the kitchen’s windowsill, right by Matilda’s tank.

You comply without fuss, guessing you would probably end up being more of a nuisance anyway for not knowing where anything is.

Despite knowing your chances of being in this kitchen again are slim, you’re making mental notes on the places of things. You like being here, you decides. And not just because the apartment is cozy and homey, Harry’s mom is nice, and you happen to really like the citrus smell of their fragrance sticks...

No. It’s because you like to be in this, more personal, space of Harry’s life.

It’s a place you would never imagine you’d be, being honest. After all, not many weeks ago, you really did believe Harry was nothing short of your nemesis, that had been put into your life solely for character-building purposes… And now you're sitting in his kitchen, watching him pick up a pair of cute, illustrated mugs from the dish rack just so you can make microwave cakes together. Life’s bloody wicked isn’t it?

“What do you want in yours?” Harry asks, pulling your wondering mind back to the present. “I like mine with peanut butter and chocolate chip, but you’ve got plenty other options. There’s vanilla… chocolate… cinnamon… apples… bananas… oranges…”

“Peanut butter and chocolate chips sounds great, actually.”

You could kiss him right now he looks bloody cute; peeking back at you with that sheepish naughty smile of someone who has got a sweet tooth and is hoping you are on the same wavelength as them to ask “Whipped cream and sprinkles on top?”

You're fucked for him.

Absolutely, utterly fucked.

There are two types of university students.

There are the ones like Ameena.

Who pack boxes and boxes of familiar goods from their homes to decorate their school rooms, transforming them in a mini, self-contained apartments because they find comfort in having stenciled stars on their walls, the teddy bear they’ve had around since they were a child perched on their bed, and that crumbling desk lamp they always depend on to get their homework in day.

And then there’s ones like you and Harry.

Who keep around just the necessary and treat their school rooms as a mere sleeping space, frame working their safe haven on the things they can carry with them everywhere… Like their favorite pair of socks, a holey band t-shirt they only got because it called their name at a vintage store or a pack of sugar free gum of their favorite flavor…

It still doesn’t mean you don't need your home room to be a cool and comfy place, with feel-good comforters you can spread your whole body over, pictures of your closest friends, cheap fairy lights, home printed artworks and magazine collages...

That to say that maybe that's the reason why you're not surprised to find Harry’s home room to be way cushier and more intimate than the frat house one...

And a perfect reflection of his personality as well.

With simple dark colors and features, a tall shelving unit around the headboard, that’s filled with ghosts of his childhood and earlier teen days. Lego constructions, a 7th grade zoo fieldtrip picture, school championship medals, an empty liquor bottle collection that you can’t help making fun of by saying “Wow, aren’t you just the coolest guy ever...”

“Oi, shut up.” He’d grumbled, sheepishly scraping at the edge of one the sneakers brand stickers stuck to the top of his desk while you walked around observing the soft rock band posters glue taped to the single room’s dark blue feature wall.

There's a couple of other items that peek your interest: A skateboard Harry admits he’s never learned how to ride, a red electric guitar and its amplifier, a box set of the lord of the rings books, a not so recent stereo system and many, many records.

“How do have so many records?” You ask amusedly. “They’re really cool. I never see these bands in stores anymore... and if I do it's always their best of collections.”

“That Eagles one you’re holding I bought, actually. But most of those were stolen from my dad.” Harry replies proudly from where he is sitting on his bed, scratching absentmindedly at his thighs as he watches you flip through his stack of CDs. “Some are a bit scratched, but I still listen to them anyway.”

You hum insightfully. “And what are these blank ones?” You inquire, picking up one of the few with a clear case and shimmering it at him. “Did you steal dad’s porn films as well?”

“God, no!” Harry chuckles aloud at your jesting. “Those,” He coughs out a laugh. “are compilations I make of songs I like. The track list’s on the back if you’re interested.” He bends his body forward and cracks his knuckles, flexing and unflexing them as he watches you nimbly spin the record case around to check. “Feel free to put any of them on if you’d like...”

"This one seems nice." You decide following a brief analysis of a couple of compilation track lists. “I never would have taken you as a Bruce Springsteen fan, but…” You are already removing the CD from the case and setting it on the stereo player. Essentially taking stabs in the dark trying to figure out how to make the amp work without asking for Harry's help.

“Oh god, not that one!” He moans, burying his hands in his face and curling up forward like you’ve just told him you’re about to make him listen to Baby Shark on loop for 3 hours.

“What? These are nice songs.” You frown offendedly as you plop down on the bed beside him. “Have you grown sick of them, is that it?” You ask as the melody of a Lou Reed song starts playing lowly from the old shelf speakers.

"No, it’s not that…” The boy shakes his head with a nervous smile and crosses his legs over the bedding. “It's just…” He shifts a little, pressing the side of his body closer to yours. “Out of all those damn records, you’ve picked my silly love songs playlist.” Harry sighs some before looking down at his own lap. He’s biting at his underlip, like there’s something playing at the tip of his tongue that he wants to say but isn’t sure if it’s wise to. “…It's the songs that make me think of you.” His shoulders slump like he’s relieved, and completely unaware of the way adrenaline is now buzzing through your veins. “Harry…” The girl gasps from shock. “You can’t just say things like that."

"Why?" He plain and simply asks.

"Because you… this… it’s a bit…” You sough weakly. “You're making it worse. You saying those things is going to make all the other things... worse.”

Harry seems hesitant in speaking for a moment, but he takes a big breath through his nose and forces himself to untie the knot that has formed in his throat. “What kinds of things?”

Your eyes fly up to meet his briefly before returning to your cuticle, that you have been harshly pushing back as you contemplate your alternatives.

You are plenty certain your body is physically shaking like a pressure cooker about to burst. With dangerous heatwaves crawling up your blood vessels, threatening to blaze your confused brain into a pile of ashes and making your mind feel dreamlike, like walking a fine line between reality and all your envisionments of what this conversation could have gone like.

It's not as humiliating or perfect as you imagined it would be, but it's freeing in a way, if you look past the tightness in your stomach and the fact that you have absolutely no idea of ​​where you're getting with your words when you put forth something like,

"I like you, Harry." You say it as an apology, like your feelings are something worth feeling guilty about. "I like you for more than just the things we do sometimes."

There’s a pause.

A long pause where Harry’s face remains nestled in the crook of his elbow that’s perched over his knee. He looks placid, but mindful. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just sit there feeling your chest inflate further and further with tremulousness. And when Harry talks again his voice comes out scratchy.

“I like you too, Y/N.” You tilt your head slightly away from him, in a silly attempt to hide your face for when that inevitable “but” follows his stance. You wonder which one it’s going to be… but this is just sex, but only as a friend or the good ol’ classic but I’m not looking for a relationship right now, only it never comes. Instead, he smiles at you. “I figured it was obvious…”

“Really? You- you like me?”

“Uh, yeah? 'course I like you.” The smile on his face stretches wider, despite the way his eyebrows furrow tauntingly at the questioning. “What? you thought I showed everyone my fat turtle and my lego collection? This is priceless shit.”

You're staring at him not knowing what to say, with a heart that’s beating heavy and full in the best way. Like it’s about to burst inside your chest into a million little fireflies.

With the way his expectant eyes are lingering on your face, you’re guessing he’s out of words too. Good thing your brain is done with thinking... And sick and tired of wasting time trying to figure out what the right thing to say is.

Recklessly, you lean over, reaching for the collar of Harry’s sweater and tugging him to clash against your mouth.

He hums some at the deed, sliding his arms around your frame and bringing you to his chest as your lips smooth unanimously. Although a bit chapped from the beach air, they stick together easily just like they always do.

Harry’s cradling your waist, while you are still very much twisting harshly at the fabric of his collar beyond your knowledge, until one of his hands flies to nab at his throat. “Christ love,” He coughs a laugh. “I’m not usually one to turn down a bit of intense choking, but I’m about to pass out if you don’t give me a second to breathe.”

“Sorry." You draw back a little shamefaced. "I didn't realize I was unintentionally murdering you.” Despite the full-blooded cheeks, Harry's eyes are lit and sparkling with desire as he holds on to your hip and adjusts himself. "It's alright... guess I always knew you would try to rip me to pieces one day. Now come here, on my lap." He pats his thigh for you to come sit in it, and in a heartbeat, you’re slinging your leg over and plopping your bum in his lap, facing him. He spurts out a perky hum as you tilt your head down, like you’re about to tell him a secret, only instead you comb the pecan colored locks away from the side of his neck and push your mouth against the skin that’s as remarkably warm and soft as you remembered.

Some spots are still branded plum from a couple of days ago, so you make sure to be gentle with it… placing little sucks and kisses over the fragrant skin until his lips part in delight. “Would it be okay if I took your shirt off?” You ask a bit reluctantly. With a soft nod, Harry’s hands dive under the hem of his sweater, smiling boyishly as he pulls it up and over his head along with the t-shirt, he was also wearing underneath.

He throws the conjunct of shirts to the side, carelessly.

“Can I get yours as well?” His request comes soon, preventing you from taking in his body and the tattoos adorning it like you wanted to. Your chest stretches wide as you work on pulling your own tops off. Harry helps you, dragging them upwards by sliding his hands alongside your frame.

Without thinking, your fingers jump back to unclip your bra, quickly sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it to the floor. Your eyebrows furrow questioningly once you notice Harry’s eyes are wide with surprise. “What? did you want me to leave it on or something?” But then it hits you. It’s his first time seeing your chest bare like this.

The other times you’d been together the sex had always been rushed and needy, so much that you’d never seen each other properly naked.

Sure, you’d seen each other’s parts and crammed your hands underneath each other’s shirts to cop a feel…

But it was different this time.

You're doing it because you like Harry.

Because he makes you feel all these sorts of things you thought he could never. He cues you into feeling esteemed, and appreciated, and powerful... while simultaneously making you all tender and needy with his kisses and silly love songs. And you treasure him. So much that you wish your body was made of plasticine, just so it would bend and mold and stretch into a giant shield to protect him from anything that could ever hurt. Because that's how his arms always make you feel. Safe and cherished like you're inside of a formless cocoon that smells nice, feels nice, and looks at you with pretty green eyes.

But as much as you were enjoying watching Harry’s cheeks flush as he drank your naked body in, it was making you feel slightly insecure about... well, everything? It prompts you to, not so covertly, wrap your hands around your breasts.

“Why are you covering yourself?” Harry asks, adoringly reaching for your hands to tweak them away. He kept your fingers locked, as he took you in. Sighing happily with an awestruck smile as his gaze flickered between your breasts, seemingly completely blown away by what was being presented to him.

“Because you’re staring.” You slump your shoulders slightly. “And I don’t want you seeing my flaws…”

Harry’s face pinches. “What flaws? There are no flaws…”

“Yes there are!” You fret, pulling your hands from his hold to try wrapping them around your body, but Harry grabs your wrists before you can. “And on top of that, I woke up bloated today… and it’s only gotten worse throughout the day…”

Harry's hands leave yours, coming to cup your face instead as he looks deep into your eyes. It makes you dizzy. “You’re gorgeous." He says it like he means it. “Literally fuckin’ stunning Y/N. Please never hide your body from me. Because I love it.” He chuckled whilst looking down to his lap, where some swelling was already going under his undies although none you had fully stripped yet. “And the thing is… that’s not even a relevant part in everything makes me crazy about you.” You huff, dropping your head over his shoulder. “Such a sweet talker when you’re trying to get your dick wet, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” He blows, pouting a little. “Knock off painting me like dick while I’m having my moment of weakness and getting all sentimental... ‘s real mean.” His hand reaches for your forehead, just so that he can swipe away a loose strand of hair. “And it's not like I don't have a bit of a pouch going on myself, see?” He said, relaxing his abdominal muscles completely. You had a feeling he was forcefully pushing his belly out a bit just to ease your nerves, but you let it slide in order to poke playfully at it with your finger. “Been having too much of that Irish beer I reckon… and chocolate stuffed croissants…”

“No! none of that.” You coo, pushing forward and wrapping your arms around his cushy shoulders. “It’s perfect, you’re perfect...” With your cheek pressed against Harry’s collar, you resume to pressing sticky kisses alongside his neck and cheeks. “And I love chocolate stuffed croissants.”

“Hmm… do you?” He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, basking on the the kisses you're giving him, and the feeling of having your bare, fleshy chest nuzzled against his.

“Mhm..." You place a kiss on the tip of his nose, and he gives you one back. "And strawberry jam ones too, but… I know you’re only saying that to make me feel pretty.”

“Because you are pretty." Harry insists. "The prettiest. I love your eyes..." He smears his mouth on yours, pressing soft pecks on your face as he speaks. "And your nose, and your lips, and your neck..." He stops and stares, literally. "And these beauties.”

You're not attempting to cover them this time, instead you let out a layed off sigh and stare down at yourself. “Do you like them?”

“Do I like them?" His eyes dart up at your face for a moment and he smiles, with one of those 'I would eat you whole if I could' smiles. "I was trying not to be lewd but... fuck man, they're perfect."

He takes them in again, and although you're not presumptuous, you're assuming by the way he's raving on the sight, that he wants to touch them. "You can play with them if you'd like." She says it because shes dying for' him to touch them too, but doesn't want to act all brash by randomnly pulling his hands to clasp against her boobs.

You'd assumed he would go for a small squeeze at first... or hell, even a big squeeze with both his hands kneading at the flesh, but he doesn't. Instead he lunges forward, swiping his tongue over your nipples before he's sucking them off and on in his mouth.

He's being proper filthy with it too. With noisy and sloberry sucks until he feels them stiff against his tongue.

"These perfect tits" Harry growls, clearing the dryness in his throat before speaking again. “Just wanna hold ‘em, and squeeze ‘em, and bite 'em...” He does it then. Drags one of your nipples between his teeth and gives it a bite that has you spasming in pleasure and good pain. He suckles the soreness numb then, and blows cold air over it as he draws away. "That wasn't too much, was it?"

You don't answer to his question, instead you push his torso down on the matress, leaning along with it so that you can taste his lips again.

Your mouth starts venturing down his body, smooching his neck, his chest... And you take time to play with his nipples too. Which is something you've always enjoyed doing... yet unfortunantly guys never seemed to care for it, so you usually always ended up giving up in favor of putting your mouth around something you knew would leave them all whiny for you instead...

But something tells you Harry does like it. So you push your mouth on them, swirling your tongue around the flushed bumps and even sinking your teeth into them softly just like he did to you.

And fuck... he moans!

They're low and soft moans but they're there. And they're still there while you're kissing down his tummy, and his hips, and following down his happy trail until your underlip's brushing against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Can I take these off of you?” You ask as you begin to undo the button and zipper, Harry nods his head affirmatively, so you grab tightly onto the bands and give them a testy tug down.

He releases a breathy grunt at the push. “It’s alright, I got it.” The boy asserts as he takes the matter onto his own hands to make short work of the task.

"Your boxers too." You command, once you notice he was planning to leave them on. Harry’s face inevitably heats when being asked such a blunt request, but he nods and pulls them down anyway.

As he does, his prick plops up into thin air, just as pretty and empowered as you'd last seen him. "God, you're pretty..." You flatter as you start using your hand on him, slipping your fingers around it and slowly pumping the skin up and down.

He looks big, and wide and rosy at the tip, where it's glossy and leaky.

Even his balls look great from this angle, for fuck's sake. Nice and full and immediately your mouth starts watering at the thought of emptying them... but you force yourself to swallow down your arousal as you lower your body on him, until you're nice and settled between his spreaded thighs.

"Have you noticed," Harry's gruffy voice breaks your attention, who was still focused on how lovely looking and responsive his prick was. "how small your hand looks when it's on me?"

"I have, actually." You practically chuckle as you wrap your other hand around him, gliding both throughout his lenght simultaneously. It makes his chest quiver. "Does that turn you on?"

"Mhm, yeah... a bit."

"No need to be shy about it..." You tease, climbing a little closer up the sheets. "Do you also like the way it looks when it's in my mouth?"

"I- uh... yeah." He clears his throat falteringly. "It's what I think about most when I, when I'm sorting myself out, actually." He rakes his hair back sloppily, with his eyes still trailed on what you're doing to him. "You look awful cute while you're doing it too, so... that helps."

You can't take this anymore.

You can't take another second of having this gorgeous boy acting all cute and shy and whimpery while his cock pulsates and spurts into your hands without wrapping your lips around him.

So you lean forward, coat the tip of his dick into your mouth and give it a kind suck. Harry's mouth is hung open as he watches you, pretty moans bubbling in his and your chest as well once you start scouring your tongue and slurping around the whole expand of his skin until he's dripping from arousal.

His hand jumps to your hair, desperate to get some more of your sopping mouth bobbing up and down on him like last time... So you give it to him. Stuff as much of him as you can past your lips and push it down your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you rejoice on the feeling of fullness he gives you.

And his taste.

He tastes good. Good and familiar...

And it's making you beat yourself up for not having drop your head on him down and dirty on Halloween night after noticing he'd gotten hard just from making out with you over the console.

You're determined to make up for it now though...

By fondling the skin of his thighs and belly as you sink your head farther and harder, and suckling on his sensitive tip as much as you can, even when you need to come up for a breath... making sure he gets to see how bloody greedy you are for the savoriness of his essence... and how willing your tongue is to lick it all up just so no drop goes to waste.

Harry's breathing is heavy, scattered with wet crackles as he looks down at you. "Are you-" He probes, while your mouth is still moving steadily around him. "moaning?" His eyebrows remain furrowed in pleasure as he lifts up over his elbows to check on you. "Is that you making these pretty noises? Are you moaning around my cock?"

A fluttery soud echoes inside the room as you pull him out. "No..."

"Yes you are." Harry chuckles at your shy demeanor. "Does having a cock in your mouth turn you on, baby? Bet you're making a right mess inside your panties, aren't you?"

"I can't help it..." You admit coyly, feeling a little bashful over the question. "It's your fault for tasting nice the way you do."

"Is it?" He tuts his tongue, flashing you a jolly smile before he's putting back a little on the bed and sitting up. "It's only fair I get to take care of it then, innit?"

You put up a bit of a pouty hassle, saying that you weren't quite done with him yet, but it's pointless. He's already making his way around your body and switching your positions, so you figure you might as well let him have his way with you... since he's already snagging the rest of your clothes off.

You've always love Harry's laugh.

But there's something special about it in moments like these, where you're watching him struggle to pull off your sneakers and your tight elastic pants. -- moments when he's naked, and his face looks a bit flustered as sweet and warm sounding cackles erupt from the bottom of his chest.

But then his eyes dart up to yours, greenish and luscious with arousal, as he sets himself in between your legs.

You squirm.

Tensing immediately at the feeling of his lips venturing down towards your pineapple printed, in more than one way, hipster, panties.

“If I remember correctly, I owe you two orgasms from last time, right?” He questions. Your mouth opened with a surprised oh, as you tried squirming a little upwards in order lift up in your elbows, eager on asserting that you weren’t holding him accountable over such a silly promise.

He paid your rumbling no mind, giving both your knees a sharp tug, that put you back into a laid down in position in no time.

“So now I’m thinking we should just get one of them out of the way...” He says, with tempting glossy eyes and the ghost of a smile still pushing the corner of his mouth up due to the squeal that escaped yours at the sudden yank he’d given you.

Or was it more of a moan?

It surely made your whole-body tingle with arousal.

“I didn’t know we were keeping track…”

“We're not. I just want to taste you again.” He said, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and you waste no time in lifting your bum to help him on working the fabric down your legs, once they’re out, he tosses them to the floor and wraps his hands around your thighs.

You felt a part of the heat rush back to your cheeks once you heard him moan out a soft Fuck… as he caressed up and down your legs with his eyes locked on your center, before they lifted right up to meet your curious ones. “Swear I could cum just from looking at this pussy...” He spoke, thumbs carefully spreading you open, revealing the spot where you were warmest and dampest for him. “But I’m too greedy not to have a taste, so...”

“Lucky me…” Your words were nothing but a whisper as you let your body fall back over the sheets at the feeling of the boy’s tongue slowly lapping between your lips for the first time that day.

Right of the bat, the feeling’s already too much to handle, making you unintentionally slither up the bed to avoid pushing your legs together. “Are you ever going to learn how stay still or am I going to have to tie you to the bed next time?” Harry menaces jokingly, giving your knees another tug and tightening the grip of his arms around your legs to keep you in place.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...” You apologize, spreading your thighs open at the feeling of a palm pushing against the inner part of one. “But just to put it out there... I don’t know if you were kidding or not with the whole tying thing but, if that’s something you’re into, I’m down to try it sometime...”

His face sparks up, astonished. “Quite forward, aren’t you?” Your eyes avert away as his eyebrows jump up teasingly. It’s more for show really… because you’re not ashamed of it whatsoever. You know Harry gets off on your wants, and you’re more than happy planting lustful seeds into his brain for later. “I want to try loads of things with you; that being one of them..." He acknowleges. "But let’s focus on what my tongue’s doing for now, yeah?” Without further ado, he dives back to work, licking up into you with broad and slow strokes of his tongue.

You’re still squirming a little, letting out soft whines and feeling your hips jump lightly with each heated swipe he gave against your sensitive bud... but it’s not long until your body begins relaxing into the intensity of pleasure you are being gifted.

One of your hands, that had been gripping tightly at the sheets, comes up to nestle Harry’s silky hair, that he hadn’t bothered to tie, away from his face. "Is it good? Do you like the way it tastes?"

His wild eyes jump up at your question. "Love it." He says amidst a soft slurp, before he pulls away to answer. "Always gets me hard thinking about it too... having you all soaked and spread for me to clean with my tongue." You fell captivated by the way the dim afternoon light embraced his features, accentuating the sharp lines of his face; his eyebrows, his cheekbones, and his jaw... Open wide as his smooth tongue delved inside of you. You could catch onto glimpses of its pinkness with each passionate tilt of his head.

He looked absolutely delighted by the way you tasted. His eyes were pressed shut as he held onto your thighs, running his fingers up and down soothingly over your skin from time to time, akin to the moans he occasionally let loose.

The view was enough to prompt that familiar fizzy feeling to start in the lowest realms of your tummy. “Fuck, Harry… You look so pretty in between my legs...” The words escaped you before you could stop yourself from saying them.

His eyes dart up at you again. “You think I’m pretty?” Deep blueish green and so bright with arousal that you could feel them lighting sparks all over your body.

“You’re so pretty…” You reutter, giving into stroking his ego once more. “and so good…”

“You like good boys?”

“Mhm, you’re such a good boy… with such a filthy mouth…”

"Yeah?" He was giving you a proper show, spitting right over your clit spreading the wetness around the with the tip of his tongue in languid circles. “But you like my filthy mouth, don’t you baby?” He asked, leaning closer and giving the swollen and pulsating bud and a gentle suck that had you curling your toes and pushing yourself upwards in his mouth.

“Fuck… I- yes, yes. I love it…” You whimper; body hot and trembling as he carries on suckling at the throbbing bud.

There was nothing you could do but lay there, moaning and tugging mercilessly at Harry’s hair with shaky fingers as you took whatever he gave you; whether it was quick and precise flicks of his tongue or long, harsh sucks to your clit that had your eyeballs rolling towards the back of your head. “Eyes on me,” He demands at the realization that you had let them fall shut. “I want you to watch just how fucking filthy it can be…”

Watching was overwhelming.

It was the way his mouth was dripping with your essence as he stared back at you with that blatant cocky beam in his eyes of someone who simply knows they are giving it to you good.

Just another reminder of why Harry, and only Harry was the subject behind your wildest fantasies…

And fuck, lord knows you wouldn’t have the guts to deny that he owned you if he dared to ask who that pussy belonged to, even if you wanted to.

The suction was ungraciously sloppy from the wetness that you could not only feel and hear but also smell in the air, so active that you could practically taste it in your own tongue… And Harry was groaning as he lapped at it. Soft groans against your damp flesh that were downright dirty, just like the encouraging words he murmured anytime his tongue managed to steal a good moan from you. “Need you to cum baby. Need you to cum so that I can push my cock nice and deep inside of you... You still want that, right? Want me to fuck that pretty little cunt you until I’m all finished, don’t you?”

“Yes! Fuck, Harry… Yes, yes… that’s all I want…” Your upcoming orgasm had your legs attempting to fall shut, but Harry’s strong hands pushed them back apart, keeping you spread to the point where it almost hurt in the places where your limbs joined, but you’d admit that if one thing, the pain was only turning you on more.

“Oh my god, please keep going. Please, please…” You helplessly cry once Harry pushes his mouth on you harder and begins to ruthlessly tongue-fuck your softest spots. The noises are wet. Pure gushing wet to add to the moaning and groaning and desperate whining from you as your orgasm finally begins to unravel like an explosion of colorful fireworks you swear you can actually see if you press your eyes shut hard enough.

Harry carries on licking you through it, the strokes of his tongue knowingly growing slower and more yielding to avoid causing any uncomfortable sensitiveness. You find yourself lovingly combing his hair back as he does it, until he's looking at you with the cutest, droopiest eyes. You let out an audible satisfied sigh then, so he decides to pull away.

But not before displaying an array of kisses anywhere in between your lower stomach and your inner thighs… which you partly believe is to clean his face, but it doesn't make you appreciate the sweet gesture any less.

A smile never leaves Harry's face as he wiggles his way upwards your body until you are face to face again. You're holding onto his cheeks with both your hands, running your thumbs across his warmed skin. "Thank you, that was... so good." You whisper and he nods appreciatively, pushing his face down just so your lips met again.

The kiss is deep and urgent, allowing for you to the taste your own arousal, that is inevitably spreading from Harry’s tongue to yours. He rocks his hips further to skim against the spot where you’re still hot and fluttery, bringing your mind back to the heavy bulge you could feel brushing against the skin of your hip. “Do you want me to go grab a condom?” You ask a little coyly, words muffling together with the way you’re humming them. "I got some the other day, and brought them just in case..."

“Wait, I think…” Harry climbs a little up in the bed, tongue slightly peeking out as he reaches his arm to open the top bedside drawer. He fumbles his way around the drawer, letting out a little A-ha once his fingers reach one of the loose wrappers cluttered in the back.

He picks it out and pushes the drawer back closed, drawing a fit of giggles from you once he decides to start puckering your face and neck with kisses as he shimmies all the way down into his previous position.

Your heart is hammering anxiously in your chest as you watch him kneel on the bed in between your legs and tear apart the shiny wrapping with his teeth. As you lay still, with his figure hovering over you, that’s when a wave of apprehensiveness comes crashing down on you; making you feel like a bloody virgin all over again as you watch Harry blow a quick breath on the condom before moving to roll it over his member.

“Y/N?” His face glimmers at your fixed staring. “You’re still with me?” He asks with a gentle stroke to your knee. "If you want to stop, we can. We don't have to-"

"No." You cut him off, pushing yourself up into a sit up position and smearing your mouth sloppily on his. Your teeth clash a bit with the slope, but neither of you are bothered by it as you carry on devotedly kissing each-other as if your lives depended on it. Harry’s hands are snug to your lower back to keep you close, luring your closer and closer until you are practically sitting on his lap again.

It was nothing short of erotic, the way your head dipped back under his touch; back arched as he hungrily rubbed and sucked on both your breasts, until your hips were swaying against his lap in a silent plead for him. “Do you want to stay on top?” He questions once you climb impossibly closer, wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

“Yes, I want to take care of you.” You reach down then, grabbing his length and positioning it at your entrance. Harry helps you some, by holding it in place as you try sinking down on him for the first time.

It did not go in right away.

Nor in the next couple of times you tried it. It wasn’t that surprising really. Harry was big, and this position was definitely not the most ideal for unfurling... But you wanted to be the one taking care of him, not only that but you knew this would make it extra nice and tight for him, and for reasons best known to you, you wanted to make an impression.

“Do you want me to help?” He asks deliberately, noticing your struggle.

“No, I don't want help, -- I can do it myself.” You stated obstinately, tone growing a little sour from exasperation as you carried on trying. You swore could cry angry tears if you granted yourself the chance to, but before you could, Harry was flipping you back down onto the mattress. Leaving you completely boggled, staring back at him with awkwardly bent limbs and a disgracefully pliable and pumping cunt.

“Always a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” He teases as he crawls steadily on top of you. “We’d be here all day if I’d let you have things your way…” The boy quips knowingly, clamping his hands on your wrists and pining them right over your head. “And I would. I really would…" He brings one of his hands to his mouth, shamelessly spitting over his palm before he grips it down on himself. He groans as he slides his hand up and down his cock, mouthwateringly hard and dripping with precum. "But I have an aching prick baby... and it really, really can’t wait any longer.”

Your body is jumping beneath his, upwards in supplication for him to stop jerking himself and push his cock inside of you instead. You’re being persuasive, but he doesn’t bend to your pleading right away. He seems amused though, with the way his lip tilts up at the corner.

“Will you let me fuck you?” His question is bold and unswerving, but the look in his face that follows it is winsome enough to give you space for reckoning. Not that you needed any, because not a second goes by before you are whimpering a batch of toothsome yeses. “Do you trust me?” He adds, looking right into your eyes.

Your body stills some¸ emotions bubbling in your chest at the realization of just how much you do, and how much you do not want to be in this position with anyone but Harry ever again. It makes you wonder if he is feeling it too. The impassioned aura that was coming down over your body as you feel him aligning himself with the gap between your legs.

Hot and velvety and so bloody hard.

“Yes. Yes, I trust you…”

Harry’s mouth is on yours in a short breath, as his hips gently flex forward. The syrupy kiss you were sharing inevitably cracking into groans as his member dips his way inside the warm and slick tightness of your walls.

He takes his time easing himself into you, slowly drawing halfway out before he’s diving further in again, deeper and deeper with each subdued thrust. Before you know it, he’s staring at you, boyish and gratified smile adorning his features. “All set.” He hums, leaning down for a sweet little peck to the tip of your nose. “How does it feel, princess?”

You cutely scrunch it up at him before returning the gesture. “Feels good, just a bit... big.”

“But you like it, right?" He smirks boastfully in jest. "Being stuffed with me and all that...”

Your brows furrow disapprovingly. “You know what I really would like?" You ask, unnable to mask the giddiness you feel once he hums solemnly. "If you would just shut up and get with it before I cum from the anticipation alone.”

With a soft cackle, Harry’s reaching down and clasping his mouth onto yours with slow and provoking urge. “Don’t rush it." He solicits against your lips, before his tongue finds its way into your mouth and starts circling yours gingerly, like it was sweeter than the sweetest cherry wine. "Let me enjoy you for a little while... I promise I’ll be giving it to you hard and fast before you even know it.”

And shit, you really couldn’t say no to that now, could you?

So you resent on accepting whatever Harry gives you... and gripping at his skin roughly as he fills you up with slow and considerate lunges for a time.

You don’t think you've ever had sex this compelling before. And it’s not about the sex itself...

It’s the unexplainable connection you feel with Harry.

It makes no sense. You know it doesn’t, but everything in your body effortlessly blooms as soon as your bodies touch. Whether it is the mere presence of his hand on the small of your back while roaming around IKEA’s small spaces, or his nails branding your skin with how hard he is squeezing your thighs open.

To make things better, Harry’s eyes remain trained on your face the whole time his tongue and lips aren’t lavishing your mouth. Your fingers are buried in the strands of his hair, tugging harder at the roots with each passing moment of slow and sensual thrusts to your soppy hole.

You firmly believe he likes it though, with the way he tends to pick up the rhythm and growl against the transpiring skin of your neck the more you tighten the grip of your fist. “God, baby... You feel so good. Got such a perfect cunt.” Harry utters lowly, at a particularly pleasurable smack of his hips. “So soft and warm... And mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Just like my cock's all yours too.” He moans, and you can’t help but to join along, still nodding your head yes at the question.

He was all that you could feel. Every wheezy breath of his; every greedy mouth collision; every scratch of your nails up and down his back and ass to pull him closer. “You're warm too… and fuck, your dick… ‘s huge.” You groan, the comment surprisingly making his cheeks glow a little pink. “But you work it so well… make it feel so good.”

He's moving in and out of you with slow and deep rolls of his hips. The tip of his shaft nudging against that spot inside of you repeatedly and making your lips part in delight. “That’s all you baby… being such a good girl, taking me so well…”

It’s filthy. It’s so fucking filthy with Harry pining you over the mattress. Noises of skin slapping wetly mix with the ones the bed makes by rocking against the wall, causing outbursts of arousal to spread through your entire body, leaving it tingly everywhere.

There’s something so utterly romantic about it though.

Harry won’t take his eyes away from your face. They’re as beautifully oceanic and evocative as ever, only now they’re glazed with a warm and watery layer of arousal, one that you pray is reserved for your eyes only.

It's dangerously intimate like this. With the tips of your noses brushing together, hearts beating in a similar rushed pace and lungs partaking the same weighty breaths as both bodies move as one in the pursuit of mutual release.

And yes, the fit was tight... But it came tied to a pleasure so mighty, it left no room for wondering. Harry was going to give you that second ‘o’... and you were going to leave a mess all over his bedsheets, whether the burn came to down to ease or not.

“Please… don’t stop...” Your throat unwittingly buzzes. You hate how desperate you sound but you can’t stop yourself from asking for it. “I think I’m gonna cum again..."

“Yeah? You wanna cum? C’mon then, cum for me…” Harry’s visibly gritting his teeth from pleasure, hips falling against yours quicker and harder, and there’s a protruding vein pumping firmly on the side of his neck. “C’mon Y/N, gimme a good one... fuckin’ ruin me…”

You can tell he’s reaching the end of his rope… and luckily so are you.

“I’m going to, Harry. Fuck, please... cum in me.” You ramble into his mouth. You tried pushing your hips up to meet him halfway, but it was useless with the way Harry’s hands were keeping you steady against the mattress as he sloppily pounded into you, fast and hard like he promised he would. “Cum in me.” You begged. “Show me how much you really like my cunt…”

“Fuck, baby… I love it. I love it so much.” He practically purrs. Or maybe it’s the way your body is jittering in all places under him that’s making it sound like that. Your mind feels like TV static, your heart is hammering inside your ribcage and there is a loud buzzing in your ears.

Harry’s pace is strong… and messy. But fuck, it feels so good!

You can feel the pressure of his cock on the deepest parts of you. You can hear and feel the heavy breaths and pleasure cries he’s bearing in your ear. You can taste his skin and his sweat and his arousal like you were actually bathing in him.

And once he pushes his prick inside of you fully and rolls his hips upwards to push against your sensitive spot, you're a goner.

You crumble apart. Clawing on Harry’s back and pushing your mouth against his collar in attempts to muffle your loud moans as your tight walls clench and pulse around him. “Shit, you're squeezing me so good... there we go… ahh, shit... that’s it… keep coming on my cock…” He grunts against your temple as he carries on swaying his hips rashly against yours.

Inevitably, your ecstatic state pushes Harry to his own orgasm as well. -- Spurting ropes and ropes of sticky ooze inside the condom.

It’s warm.

So warm that you can feel it through the rubber. It makes you mewl softly into his neck as your bodies still rock against eachother, making the most of the last waves of pleasure still flaring through before your limbs start feeling too drowsy to move.

If Heaven is real, you think you've found your personal one.

As Harry lets his body fall atop of yours.

His heart is beating fast, making his chest convulse a little against the sweaty skin of your belly. His hair feels messy and damp once your fingers come down to push his long curls back, just so that you can craddle his face, that he’d let drop in the middle of your chest. Once you do, he looks up at you. “What?” You ask once you witness him breathe out the softest, happiest sigh you’d probably ever seen him make.

“It's... nothing.” He says before dragging himself upwards to steal another kiss from you. "You're pretty and I like to stare at you."

He rolls over to the side then, but his arms still come to wrap around you right away. You furl into Harry's chest easily, tangling your legs together as he adjusts the covers over you. “You kept your socks on.” He comments once he feels their softness scrape against his legs.