Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 39

Hey, guys I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while. YI've just been going through some personal issues, but luckily that's fixed and all. Anyways school is about to start and I'm not ready, so as a pre school gift. I have a chapter :)

I'd been introduced to sex at the age of thirteen; the gateway to me teenage years. She was older, not wiser, a frail woman with small hips, blonde bristly hair, and dead hazel eyes. I'd sat situated in the wobbly chair and watched as she went in for the kill. Her bony fingers stemming from long acrylic nails trailing down my arm, her nails frequently biting the skin to put a flame in my loins. The truth was, I had no idea how to move to her, I didn't know my role in sex as a man, and like a little puppy, I'd followed her into a room and let her do what she wanted. I let her climb on with her legs on each sides of my naked hips, her hands now trailing over the smooth untouched flesh of my chest.

And in that position I let her slide down until I felt a warm heat surrounding my member. It felt foreign, and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. I watched her rise her body up and down slowly. I let her guide my hands to her skinny hips, and I let her ride me. That was the only time I let a woman control, and I despised it.

My second experience was lost in my memories of the cluster of women I'd slept with, and maybe it was just as bad as the first one, or perhaps better. They all faded, all of their faces fading away like smoke leaving my mouth, a relaxing memory now forgotten. No woman caught my attention, even in bed it was average, normal. Climb, stick my dick in, and move. Steps that led to a boring release and then taking the condom off.

With all those experiences, I somehow wasn't prepared to have Ophelia's lips descend on my own. As soon as I felt her soft lips touch mine, I didn't just taste the sweet cherry gloss she'd used, but something flew to my mouth, something all too familiar and I breathed it in. The bitter taste had altered to a soft serene one in the confines of her mouth. And as soon as I breathed it in, she backed away. Her soft face came into view once more, her lips void of much gloss now, her eyes sparkly as if she'd done something explicitly bad. Ophelia looked beautiful. Freshly kissed, she was breathtaking.

It was hard to remember if I thought any of those women were beautiful, but like Ophelia, I'm sure I wasn't engrossed in the way her eyelashes swooped down and up like feathers, of how her cheekbones almost shone in the dull light of the room, I certainly didn't focus on their lips and how it simply fit together like puzzle pieces.

And while I did think about all of that, I couldn't find the words to tell her. Nothing came to mind, nothing rattled out of my lips. And so I told her in the only way I knew how. I took her face in my hands, and once more we kissed. I could completely feel her lips this time, they were soft, tender, and so fragile.

"Harry," she spoke with a soft voice, the sound of it floating in the air, slowly fading when I attached our lips once more, stopping her words. Her hands left her sides to grip on to the shirt I'd threw on before coming here. They travelled at the pace of lightning to my hair just as my tongue touched hers. Standing in the classroom with the desk between us, Ophelia and I paid no attention to the snow slowly falling in chunks outside, the terrible music blasting from the gymnasium, or the lights going out one by one while everyone headed home from the party. The weekend had officially started, and Ophelia and I stayed in the classroom, not really caring.

"Harry, wait," she tried once more, now moving away completely putting the space of the desk between us. I watched her bite her lip and look around. The blue in her eyes sparkling, her lips just a little swollen and red, no hint of gloss left on them. "I think the party's over," she voiced before moving to the door. She looked back, one hand at her hair trying to fix it and another opening the door. "Oh!" she jumped back when the door opened on its own, and the custodian came in with a groan.