Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 1 (Edited)

Harry's POV:

"Fuck Lou," I groan as he sucks a purpling bruise to the sensitive area of my neck, teasingly palming my growing bulge, driving me crazy with want.

I feel manic with need, as though the insatiable yearning for his body on mine cannot be satisfied unless I have more. I need him closer.

As the fragrance of his Armani perfume engulfs my senses, I throw my head back in ecstasy, unconsciously giving him better access to my sweet spot, while simultaneously trying to buck my hips into his hands to create friction, which I desperately desire.

With each teasing stroke of his palm on my clothed crotch, I grow more and more frustrated and start whining deep within my throat.

Squirming under Louis' hold, with his hands pinning mine above my head, all I can do in that moment is stare into his eyes and take what he decides to give me.

I don't care about the door handle digging into my back, I don't care that anyone walking outside of the door can hear me, all I care about is getting him closer and closer to my body.

Louis' sky-blue eyes penetrate my green ones, and I can see the arousal in them as well as the teasing undertone matching mine. I am sure he loves my wrecked state right now. Whining and needy, begging for him to do something to relieve the aching tension in my cock, not knowing whether to squirm away from his touch nor to give in to it, as I'm already so sensitive. Yet he keeps his same deliberately slow strokes, driving me closer to the edge but not nearly enough to give me what I so desperately desire.

We are now in what I would assume is something of a hotel room; as I can tell, it is certainly not his house, even from the barely there glimpse I got of it. It's far too magazine-like and not nearly enough lived in.

Although preoccupied with the way his thinner lips feel against my thicker ones and the way his hands feel against my body, I noticed he had some clothes thrown here and there with what I could have sworn were fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold, giving away his often presence in the place; home or not. However, I don't get much time to dwell on that thought as he starts removing my shirt and undoing the button on my jeans at this precise moment.

This is not how I expected tonight to go at all but I sure as hell am not complaining.

I didn't expect to now be pinned on a bed stark naked ‒ aside from my boxers ‒ with a toned stranger hovering over me, driving me insane. I didn't expect to have my clothes thrown somewhere on the floor alongside some of his. I wasn't expecting to get fucked tonight nor for me to be in some strangers' 'hotel' room.

Especially, I did not expect to be so nonchalant about being intimate with a person I barely knew, a person who would undoubtedly bring about change in my monotonous life, bring about change from my norm which everyone knew killed me a little at a time.

The most I expected was to get wasted and maybe a messy blowjob or two in the bathroom, but certainly not this.

Above all, I especially didn't expect to get so hard and turned on from him just palming me through my boxers, but that seems how tonight is going to play out, and it is a welcome distraction for me.

With each bruising kiss on my swollen lips or naked torso, I feel as though I am being engulfed by flames. As though his touch is fiery yet an addiction, since the slightest contact renders me a shivering and moaning mess.

I, of course, blame my actions on the alcohol coursing through my veins or possibly the fact that I haven't been fucked proper in weeks. However, the fact that Louis is practically sex on legs probably has something to do with it as well, but I am far too drunk to think about reason at the moment.