Your eyes flicked up in time to see his jaw tighten, his chin tilted towards the ceiling even more. God, you loved him like this. You loved when he asked for it; when he was overwhelmed and stressed and just needed you. The satisfaction and pure arousal coursing through your veins was overwhelming.
The clink of the handcuffs as he shifted sent a chill down your spine, a soft moan coating your throat to reverberate down his cock. He was sprawled out in the center of the bed, wrists connected to the corner posts, legs spread wide. He wanted them tight, letting you click the cuffs closed more and more. He liked the bite of them - the subtle pinch when he would move a certain way. Especially when his cock was stuffed in your mouth, bobbing up and down on him as your hand followed suit, slick saliva coating him.
The sounds he made were exhilarating. You couldn't get enough. You never could. Every moan and pant and grunt that slipped from his overly bitten lips sounded better than the last.
"Holy fuck."
His tone urged you to take him deeper, sucking audibly as you practically fucked him with your mouth.
"Baby..." he eased into a moan, lifting his head to peer down his body and watch you. His mouth hung open perfectly, his puffy bottom lip pretty enough to suck all on its own. "Oh my god," he breathed, his voice pillowy soft.
You could feel your eyebrows crinkle inwards as you kept your eyes on his, his lashes fluttering beautifully every time you took him deep. Your hand flexed on the remainder of his length, squeezing him in the way you knew he liked - the way he'd shown you how he pleased himself.
"You're gonna make me come," he whispered, his head falling back to the bed dramatically.
He looked so good. Fuck. He looked so good. His neck extended as he tipped his head back further, his jaw ticking around every moan, his stomach clenching with every move you made. You could have let him finish, a few more pumps of your mouth would have been his demise. But that's not what he wanted; that's not what he asked for; that's not what he needed.
So you pulled off him, gripping to his base to keep his length steady as you softly licked his tip. His groan was deep before it melted into a breathy chuckle.
"Minx," he murmured, lifting his head once more, eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open with a subtle smirk tugging at the corners.
You smiled before you licked his tip again, his length and stomach flexing beautifully. "Just giving you what you asked for."
"Right," he breathed around an amused laugh. "Well, if I ask for something now, will you give it to me?"
"Depends what it is." You licked the underside of his length from base to tip, his soft "ahh" music to your ears.
"Sit on my face," he breathed around a quiet moan.
You smiled against his tip in response, placing a sucking kiss there.
"Look so pretty like that," he admired, eyes trained on your face, flicking wildly between your eyes and mouth.
You released the grip on his base, leaning up to press a kiss to the cut of his hip, the center of the butterfly, his left nipple, the top of his pec just below his collar bone, his neck.
He groaned when you smoothed your center over his cock, sucking kiss after kiss into his sensitive neck.
"Fuck, you're soaked." His voice was laced with admiration and pleasure, his head tipping back further as you assaulted his neck.
You reached down to take hold of his length, smoothing his tip across your slit over and over again as you relished in his breathy moan. You said nothing as you lined him up with your center, pushing yourself down on him slowly.
"Baby," he groaned just as your hand came up to grip his jaw, holding him steady as you sat on him, his cuffs clinking noisily again.
You moaned around the gentle stretch of him, flexing your hips against his. You'd never tire of that first push of his cock inside you; an intoxicating fullness.
Your fingers flexed under his jaw, tightening just so as Harry groaned and panted roughly. His chest heaved with it, and his pulse throbbed in time with his cock. It was exhilarating. And even more exhilarating was the desperate, keening moan that pulled from his throat when you gave him one experimental stroke before lifting off him completely.
"Why are you trying to kill me?" His voice was a soft whine, but you didn't warrant his question with an answer. You knew he wasn't really looking for an answer anyway.
Instead, you leaned in to kiss him on his perfect mouth. And his humming moan sent a chill straight down your spine, your core pulsing with the loss of his length. You squeezed his neck once more before bringing both your hands to his chest, scratching your nails across his pecs, then over the inside of his biceps and up his forearms, your fingers brushing the cold metal around his wrists.
"These hurt?" You checked softly, your mouth hovering over his.
He hummed his response. "Feels good."
"My boy always likes some pain," you murmured before dragging your lips down his jaw.
A breathy moan escaped his mouth when you sucked the soft skin just below his ear, your nails simultaneously scratching back down the length of his arms until your fingers could push up into the sides of his disheveled hair.
"Mhm," he hummed his confirmation softly. His breathing intensified once more, his chest rising and falling harshly as you kissed and sucked along his neck and jaw. You massaged his scalp, your fingers combing through his unruly curls when he whispered so softly you couldn't quite hear him, but still knew what he was saying.
"Hmm?" You hummed, pulling your face from his neck to look down at him, but keeping your chest perfectly pressed to his.
He had his eyes closed, frustrated bliss written on his face. And when he opened his eyes to yours slowly, he looked more fucked out than you'd ever seen him before.
"Sit on my face." His words were low, just barely above a whisper. "Please," he begged even softer.
You looked into his murky green eyes, seeing his need painted in every shade. So you kissed him fully, tasting his moan and lust.
"Need it," he mumbled against your lips. "Please baby. Gotta taste you."
You felt your core pulse, his words and tone doing nothing to quell your wetness. The beg was prominent in every syllable that fell from his beautiful mouth.
And who were you to deny him what he needed.
