Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Forty-Seven

Part Forty-Seven

Harry smiles down at me and kisses my sweaty forehead. He slowly retracts his hips, pulling out of me. A soft whimper escapes my lips, his lips trailing my neck.

“I’m right here, it’s okay.”

I nod and he pulls the condom off his length, discarding it into the foil beside the blankets. Harry’s hand grips onto my waist and he pulls me close to his body, the fire adding a certain romantic touch to our moment. His hand runs along my spine, my head resting on his other arm.

“You are doing really well baby,” he whispers, splaying kisses on my forehead. I smile and look up at him, bringing my hand up to his cheek. I trace over his cheek and his swollen lips, his eyes watching me carefully. I take a deep breath and rest my hand on my chest, his arm pulling me closer to his body.

“Get some sleep love,” he kisses my cheek and I rest in his arms, completely exhausted at our previous actions.

~

“I want him gone. Niall, you are the one I turn to in these situations. He will come out of nowhere and find her. Yes.”

I turn in bed, Harry must have moved me. I am in nothing but underwear, not even a bra on my body. I can hear him yelling in the other room, his frustration clear about the man from the news.

“The last time I saw him he nearly killed me. I will not stand to have him come close to her.”

I hear Harry yell one last time to the person to find him, then it was silent. I can’t tell whether to go and get him or to just wait. After a few minutes of debating with myself, I walk out of bed and pull on his tee, walking out hesitantly.

“Why does he have to be back? I need to leave. No, I have to stay. I need Beth, I have to protect her. Shit I can’t leave her. She’s going to get hurt and I can’t let that happen. I need to take her home. I can’t let her stay here anymore.”

“Harry?”

His head darts to me, his eyes wide and muscles tensed. He keeps walking around the room, acting as though I’m not here. He keeps mumbling things to himself, tugging on his hair and crunching his face.

“Where do I go? She’ll get hurt if she stays and…and fuck!”

I run over to him before he hits the wall, grabbing his arm in my hands and pulling him away from the wall. He keeps talking to himself and I try to get him to look at me, his eyes shut tightly and hair tugged roughly.

“Shh, calm down Harry.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit that man. Michael, he will hurt her. I don’t want her to get hurt because of me. Shit!”

I place my hands on his wrists and pull them away from his hair, his hands nearly ripping his hair out. My eyes watch his chest heave, his breathing erratic. I contain his wrists in one hand and the other rests on his head, pulling his cheek down to face me.

“It’s me Harry. Look at me,” I say, trying to get his attention back. His hands squirm in mine, but I tighten my fingers around him, his struggle soon fading.

He opens his eyes, his pupils dilated, making his eyes look black. My eyebrows furrow and I cup his cheek tighter and carefully walk us into the kitchen. I grab a glass and quickly fill it with water, bringing it to his lips.

“Drink baby. Please,” I whisper, his head tilting back and swallowing the water. I bring the washcloth under the cold water and keep his wrists locked in my other hand. My fingers wrap around the cool cloth, bringing it to his face and running it over his burning skin as he remains silent, his eyes shut.