Rich H.S

Part 31

"God y'so tight, baby." Harry hissed from above you.

You could only whine in response. His touch was everywhere. Your back, your chest, your core, all the way down to your tense calves. His weight was pressed on your hips, holding you into the bed while his hands worked their magic anywhere there was a tight spot. And there wasn't just one.

"What have you been up to? Seriously. Is there another man?"

"Oh yeah." You snorted, pressing your cheek into the mattress so your words weren't muffled by the bedding anymore. Your brows knotted together as you spoke through a heavy breath, trying so hard not to make another noise of pain. "Me and my computer have been through some wild times. Fucked me up so good I can't breathe."

"That's not funny." He tutted, kneading his palms into your mid back in a way that had you groaning. "Your back is really bad, y/n. It shouldn't be this bad for someone your age."

"You can stop if it's such an inconvenience." You bit back with far more attitude than warranted for.

"It's not an inconvenience." He sighed, your attitude sparking something in him. A need to correct it and a churn in his stomach that told him something was wrong. You had been a little... snappy the last couple of days. He was worried that he had done something, or that something had happened to you. There was the obvious phone call but you assured him you were okay about it. And he didn't lie. He promised you he wouldn't and he stuck by that.

"I'm worried for you. You're always sitting with bad posture. Your bed isn't a good place to study, love. Maybe we need to invest in a different chair for your table."

It was such a dad thing to say and while you appreciated the worry, it was the last thing you wanted to speak about. Mostly because you were fine with your current situation and you didn't really need Harry rearranging your place.

"Yeah, maybe."

Harry didn't like your silence. You were a quiet thing when he first met you but you weren't like that anymore. You always had something to say or comment on, or show him on social media. You couldn't keep quiet even during shows and movies and yet it felt like you didn't have anything to say to him.

He hated it.

"Is everything alright?" He asked the question softly, unable to hold back from asking. Harry knew a massage wasn't the best time to ask you about your feelings, but it had been eating at him.

He was still working on the knots in your back like he had trained his entire life for it. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Harry was good at giving massages considering his hands were good for many things that you already had the pleasure of experiencing.

It wasn't a particularly enjoyable experience. Some spots felt good to work on and others where you were glad you were pressed to the bed because the ache was so bad you wanted to crawl out of your own skin.

You spent days and nights on your computer and most of the time it was in bed or on an uncomfortable chair so your body was suffering terribly. It was one of the reasons why you were barely dressed and being massaged on Harry's bed rather than stuffed full of dick to finally christen the bed after sleeping together again.

The other reason was that you were still thinking about that phone call. You had been thinking about it non-stop over the last couple of days since you saw him and the more you thought about it, the more it bugged you. It just hadn't left your brain and you were trying so hard, so fucking hard to just be okay with him not wanting to tell you something.

Everyone was allowed to keep things to themselves. You did. You certainly didn't share every thought and feeling with Harry, or anyone really, but you also didn't feel like you had any problems or secrets that he might need to know about. You didn't have secret phone calls or hidden text messages, nor did you blatantly say that you didn't want to tell him something.