Plant New Seeds | H.S.| AU

Chapter Thirty - Four A.M.

AN: I know this chapter is a little shorter than usual but there's another update coming tomorrow!

It would've been one long chapter but there's a lot of talking/conversations, and I didn't want you guys to be too confused, lmao

Happy Reading!

N I A

Three times.

We fucked two more times after the kitchen, making it three times in total.

We tried our hardest to keep our hands off of each other, but Harry's dick was even harder than that. Thank the Gods above for birth control, condoms and Plan B, science.

Bakes and spooning on the couch turned into Harry fucking me from behind, holding onto my body tightly the entire time. Netflix had even asked if we were still watching.

We weren't, sadly, but I appreciated their concern.

Afterwards, we showered, did our night-time routines together, and managed to hit the haystack at about midnight. Just like the responsible, hard-working adults we were. Ones that always prioritized having a good night's sleep over our own needs.

For about four hours, at least.

It was four in the morning and by sheer chemistry, or luck—we were both still awake, at the same damn time. We rolled over, pleasantly surprised that the other person's eyes were equally as wide and alert.

Light-hearted conversation about our plans at work in a few hours somehow led to Homie's dick winding up in my mouth. Then down my throat. And, eventually, inside of me.

The way we did-the-do for the third time was much different than the first. Though it was also a spur-in-the-moment thing, we moved at a searingly-slow pace that suited the early morning hour perfectly.

Lazy, unhurried, and full of blase intentions other than making each other feel good. A beautiful contrast from the rough-ride earlier.

And I came every single time.

Three orgasms in one night.

Nia from almost a year ago would've been so proud. Hell, current me was even prouder. Not saying that Harry was some sort of wizard that had powers to cure broken pussy but—I was saying that.

The most important power of all was his natural capability of listening to me and my body. He knew exactly when and how to hold me, he knew when something was too much—or not enough—and he made me feel on top of the fucking world.

There was still so much more to learn when it came to learning about my sexual needs—and Homie's, just based on where he fell in the sexuality spectrum. But with each other, it'd be worthwhile.

I didn't know how it was for him but for me, sex had felt like a brand new experience. Like a restart button for my virginity, weirdly.

Once we finished, heaving and coated in thin layers of sinful-sweat, we laid in comfortable silence.

Tangled in between the sheets and wrapped in each other's arms. The smell of his comforting-sweet vanilla and cedarwood dominated the bedroom generously.

Nothing could top the merriment coursing through my veins as I listened to Homie's heartbeat filling my eardrums.

Boop-boop, boop. Boop-boop, boop. Boop-boop, boop.

What a strange, beautiful, coincidence.

I idly traced the swallow tattoo flying on his right chest, outlining its wings with my fingers and his sweat.