Wish [Harry] On Hold

17 | R i s k y

Unedited, sorry. I'm knackered from work, Christmas shopping and the mere fact that I like writing in the early hours of the morning and I've destroyed my sleeping pattern, aha!

THE NEXT DAY, I WAS still fuming. My period just had to have been happening just as Harry wanted to screw me. How damn typical. It was as if the world were crashing and burning around me, refusing me the one thing I wanted more than anything else; Harry, and I meant all of him.

"Stupid, fucking period," I grumbled as I entered the ERHA. "Always ruining things. Not just my clothes but my first proper chance of being with Harry."

I entered the repairs office and noticed the absence of Fiona. She'd mentioned something about having the week off and I couldn't have been more thankful. Finally, I didn't have to run around after her doing the silly little jobs she should have been taking care of.

Or so I thought.

"Jane, I don't suppose I could trust you to have these finished by Friday?" Tim asked as he dumped a pile of statistics on my desk. "And could you photo-copy these residents for me please?" He dropped another piece of paper on top.

"All of them?" I almost squeaked, fuming inside. Those are Fiona's damn stats, not mine, Timothy.

"Please?" he begged before wandering back to his office, his half-bald head disappearing through the door.

I groaned. Fantastic. More work to do as well as my own. Not that it would take too much time, but Fiona usually caught up with everything after her holidays no bother - why was I suddenly dumped with all her work? And so, without another option, I began typing away, half of me positively irked by the extra statistics and the other half raging about the night before.

I'd told him - quite awkwardly - that it was my time of the month, and despite desperately wanting him to fúck me, there was no way it was going to happen while I was on my period. That was just a little odd. Thankfully, Harry had completely understood and resorted to kissing me again, his hands moving slowly over my body as if to tease me - as if he wanted to leave me begging for more.

Which, of course had worked.

I craved him, every inch. Just everything about him called to me, his personality, his smile, his scent. He was just happiness. He made me feel happy. When he'd left my home (after joining me for dinner) his presence seemed to still be lingering in the room. I'd still felt his hands on me, when I was doing the dishes, when I was showering, when I was in bed...

Fuckíng period.

As the day dragged on, like it always seemed to do while I was working, I considered buying Harry a cup of coffee for once. I'd never had the chance to do something so little but kind for him yet. That was if you didn't count drawing him and agreeing to go out with him on several occasions. A coffee was still bordering the I-know-we-are-friends thing but also had a tiny hint of we-made-out-last-night-and-I-want-to-be-your-girlfriend. Not too needy, not too subtle.