My room was a cocktail of liquor, baked goods and whatever cologne Harry had on the clothes that were strewn everywhere across my floor.
I was a heated mess. Strands of blonde hair stuck to my forehead with sweat, and my bedding became damp from me being thrown onto the covers wearing nothing but my hangover fresh after that shower.
Harry was on top of me, of course. His hands wandering nowhere lower than my waist, his kisses exploring the regions from my lips to my incredibly sensitive nipples. I had a hand in his hair, too, pulling on the brunette locks whenever I felt that he was getting a little bit too close to my southern hemisphere, if you know what I mean.
Basically, we'd been here for an hour and all I'd let him do to me was give my entire upper half a full inspection. Mainly because, one; he was drunk and I was sober, and as much as I've babbled about a drunken fuck and my craving for this cripplingly delicious douchebag - this wasn't how I was gonna fuck him. Two, because the first reason wasn't enough to spite him from me entirely.
Hell, I still had a raging boner that was prodding him in his lower abdomen every time he went to lick at the skin on my neck.
After a while, the ache in my cock became so sore that I had to push him off me. I was so tense from robbing myself of pleasure that I was concerned I'd get piles or something.
"Harry- hey, come on." I interrupted, my hands wandering up from his lower thighs (damn right I was allowed to reach lower than his waist) to his chest, which I used to push him away slightly.
He pouted his whiskey lips, shaking some curls from his own damp forehead. "What now?" He complained, managing to slur the two words that contained no letters that were even possible to slur. It sounded closer to 'shwa na', but I was slowly becoming an expert in everything Harry Styles.
I inhaled a breath. I quickly mustered every ounce of willpower I had in my body and spoke again. "This isn't happening. Not like this."
He let out a long grunt and flopped onto his back beside me. I realised then how cold my room had became once I wasn't under his warm body anymore, so I quickly grabbed the covers off the floor and threw them over us both, our dicks making two large humps in the blanket - his higher than mine - and I couldn't stop myself from seeing a camel under the covers. For sure some kind of optical illusion shit.
I thought back to how he hadn't taken advantage of me when I was drunk, and I only thought it was courteous to do the same thing with him. Even though it was really, really hard.
I really hoped it was this hard for him. In the sense of difficulty, and the firmness of our pork poles.
"And you're super drunk too, Lohan." I commented. "Where did you even go? We were apart for like, two hours." I asked curiously.
He turned his head to the side and smiled widely, resembling the emoji with the super cheesy grin that I rarely ever used because everyone in my contact list had about as much humour as the scene in Marley and Me when the dog died.
Yeah, exactly.
"You left and I felt lonely." He admitted, running a hand through his beautifully brown hair. I was still so astonished that hair so dark could look so delicious even when riddled with sweat, product and... Sweat. "There's a really nice bar just around the corner here, ya know."
"I do know." I responded, turning to lie on my side to face him, my butt sticking out the cover just so I didn't stab Harry with my dick. "So, you went for a drink alone? That's pretty sad. You should've just asked to come inside."
"I know." He admitted. "But I didn't know I'd miss you that much."
That last part made me smile, wider than I had in a long time. Man, for someone as pissed as he was, it was super easy to have a conversation with him. Perhaps this was a chance for me to lay all my cards on the table, too. And it didn't matter too much if he'd remember or not because either way, I could still pursue my mission for a fuck if it ended badly.
"I missed you too." I admitted also, placing my hand on his chest over the covers.
"You did?" He asked surprised.
"Of course I did."
He turned and looked up at the ceiling again, a slight smile on his face. "Wow."
"Wow?" I parroted curiously.
"Yeah, I thought it was just me that was enjoying myself so much."
"Hardly." I said with a long laugh. "What made you think that?"
"Well, part of me just assumed that you getting drunk on our date yesterday made me think that you thought I was boring."
Was he joking? Him? Boring? Harry Styles, the rich as a dick baker who could cook bacon more ways than I could count and had an apartment bigger than my entire future AND was interested in me? Boring?
"Aren't you drunk right now?" I argued, choosing to stay quiet over my slight infatuation of his lifestyle. Drunk or not, it'd definitely scare him off. We hadn't even known each other a week.
His eyes widened slightly and he nodded with a pout. "Very valid point."
Then his eyes went back to being ever so slightly droopy and he turned over once more, looking at me with his illuminating green eyes. He lifted his arm and put it around my waist under the covers - his wrist grazing my softening dick, but you know that as soon as he touched it it was back to being a flag pole again - and pulled me slightly closer. I found it a bit awkward that I couldn't help it this time that I was jabbing him in his hip. The only thing that prevented me from adjusting myself was that he was jabbing me in mine.
Which brings me to the topic of dick jousting. Remind me to never compete with him, because although I was endowed very well - he was a freakin' warrior downstairs. Holy shit, thicker than meat loaf.
But anyway.
"Okay." He said eventually. "Turn over."
I raised an eyebrow. "I thought I sai-"
"I'm not gonna stick it in you, Horan." He said with a slight laugh. "I doubt I'd be able to go in dry anyway, with someone as frigid as yourself."
I prepared a retort but all I managed was a smile. I turned over, trusting his promise, and then I was soon welcomed in his embrace.
The goofball was spooning me.
His warm chest against my back and one arm under my pillow and the other holding my waist.
I was in heaven, literally. Or at least the closest thing I can get to it.
"No sex tonight." He said.
I felt like saying, yeah I know, because I made that executive decision you dingus, but I didn't. Instead I just smiled and hummed in agreement.
He shuffled closer, his dick jamming between the cleft of my cheeks. Perhaps if I wanted to be true to my word I could've counted that as alluding to sex, but it felt so god damn good and suddenly I hated myself and my morals.
"Maybe one day, Styles." I commented, then I looked over at the clock.11:26. I was so thankful that it was Saturday tomorrow and I didn't have to be up early.
"One day." He agreed. "Tomorrow."
I rolled my eyes, adjusting myself on my stale bed sheets and hummed in false agreement. "Sure, Styles. Tomorrow."
Then he placed an ever so gentle kiss on the back of my neck. "Night, babe."
"Goodnight."
